Equal Measure
by McEh
Summary: Korra and Tarrlok are captured and lose their bending. Amon and his Equalists take Republic City. At the moment of the Equalist Revolution's greatest triumph everything comes apart when a single, angry missive ends up in the wrong hands. Now Amon, Tarrlok, and Korra must flee across the Earth Kingdom in an insane bid to save the Revolution and Republic City from destruction...
1. Loss

**Full Summary:** Korra and Tarrlok are captured and lose their bending. Amon and his Equalists take Republic City. At the moment of the Equalist Revolution's greatest triumph everything comes apart when a single, angry missive ends up in the wrong hands. Now Amon, Tarrlok, and Korra must flee across the Earth Kingdom in an insane bid to save the Revolution and Republic City from destruction at the hands of the enraged Chief of the Northern Water Tribe. The journey is long, there is no turning back, and as the blood bending brothers battle for the fate of the Avatar, Korra awakens to her fullest spiritual potential.

 **The Disclaimers, Warnings, and Explanations:**

1\. I would like to begin by saying that I own nothing, except maybe some original characters and concepts I've been mulling over that made their way in here. Everything else belongs to the entities known as Bryke (that is Bryan Konietzko and Michael Dante DiMartino) and Nickelodeon. I'm not making any money off this. I'm just doing this as a stress-relief project/psychological release/writing practice exercise. This is fanfiction. People do it for fun, not personal gain… unless you're E.L. James. I'm not E.L. James.

2\. This fic will make reference to/make mention of/involve the following romantic pairings in the course of its run: Makorra, Lieumon, Linzin, Masami, Borra, Boeska, Lieulin, Unarra, Danrra, and others not listed here because I haven't thought of them yet or they include OCs. The core ships will remain as follows: Lieuko, Tonna, Pemzin, Amorra/Noarra, Korrlok, Amlok/Noalok, Amorralok, Korami, Kylin, and Bopal, with shades of Lieuwuko… and maybe some others.

3\. This fic is not for the lighthearted. It's not brutal, bloody, or excessive, but it does deal with heavy topics. As such, I am providing a warning for the following triggers: psychological trauma, child abuse, public humiliation, traditional marriage (or abduction-based forced marriage), emotional/psychological abuse, physical abuse, blood bending, general violence and brutality, discussion of menstruation, attempted rape, attempted murder, discussion of miscarriage, death, torture, discussion of eastern philosophy, religion, spirituality, PTSD… and other horrible things I can't think of right now.  
Every post I put out will get a tag for whatever trigger warning I think is in there. If I'm missing something, please let me know and I'll add a tag.

4\. This is not a non-con fic, so **all sex-scenes will be consensual**. Once again: rape = attempted. Sex = consensual. (But maybe a little dub-con considering the situation the characters are in…? It's complicated. [Character C forces characters A and B into a complicated sexual dynamic with each other? And then you have character D joining in?!])

5\. Will there be sex-scenes? Oh yes. But I will warn you, I take this stuff seriously—or as seriously as anyone can take an AU poly-crack-pairing fanfic (that might not be very seriously...), so when I say there will be sex I mean that almost everyone who gets some gets some in-fic. As in you read about it. In detail. I do not favor the leads on this front. Also… if I did, it would take a really, really, really, really long time to get to the sex scenes. So, you'll be getting some of the other pairings listed above before you get to the Amorrlok. Once again, this isn't a one-shot. I make characters earn it.

6\. I have been writing this thing for a year already, so I can make no promises that I will not burn out. But I will do my damnedest to avoid it. Just be aware that updates might be infrequent at times… Life can suck.

7\. I might be writing this because I am a massive troll… maybe…

-STORY START-

 **Part 1: Intrigue  
Act 1: Triumph of Equality  
Chapter 1: Loss**

 _ **Trigger Warning: Mention/Discussion of Child Abuse and PTSD**_

 **A/N:** _What if…_

Korra's wide, blue eyes snapped open. "Aang," she gasped. Korra lowered her trembling hands into her lap as she drew a steadying breath. "This whole time you were trying to warn me about Tarrlok." She reached up and ran her fingers down her face, as if pulling away the exhaustion and tension that had developed there. She rubbed her eyes sleepily, feeling drained from effort it had taken to concentrate on meditating.

 _Tenzin always made it look easy,_ she thought sullenly as she looked around the metal box she'd been imprisoned in. She kind of had to pee— _kind of_ , she didn't have to go badly, but it was a nagging feeling. However, she refused to do her business in the small, enclosed space. She wasn't going to sit in her own piss.

A door opened somewhere outside the box, and she looked up in the direction of sound. She pulled herself to her feet at the sound of the creaking stairs. Someone was descending toward her prison. "My life is a disaster now, thanks to you!" Tarrlok growled, and she could hear the frustration and roughness in his usually smooth voice.

Korra smirked. What she wouldn't give to see the look on his face. She was certain that smug smirk of his was gone for good! "So, your little blood bending secret's out?"

Korra grinned in the general direction of the sound of his footsteps. His angry growl was all she needed to confirm her suspicions. She didn't bother trying to keep the smug smirk out of her voice. She wanted him to hear it. She'd won. He was in for it. Her friends and family were coming for her and then he'd pay! She leaned up against the side of her cramped cell and taunted him with the knowledge she'd pieced together, "And I know how you blood bent me without a full moon! You're Yakone's son!"

He didn't reply at first. His silence put her on edge and she half expected him to attack her. She could feel the tension and anger radiating from him.

When he spoke, his voice was so soft she almost didn't hear his words. "I was his son. But in order to win Republic City, I had to become someone else," his voice grew stronger as he continued his story. "My father failed because he tried to rule the city from its rotten underbelly. My plan was perfect! I was to be the city's savior! But you…" His voice was rough with anger. "You ruined everything!"

Korra grit her teeth and glared at where she imagined he stood in the room outside of the metal box. "Tarrlok, the jig is up and you have nowhere to go," she said.

After all, what else could he do?

 _This was a done deal! He was finished!_

"Oh, no," she heard him sneer. He turned and began to walk away. "No. I'll escape and start a new life." She heard his heavy foot fall on the stairs again. He paused on the steps only a short way up and growled, "and you're coming as my hostage."

All her confidence drained away in an instant. Korra slammed her fists against the side of the metal box with every bit of strength she had in her. "You'll never get away with this!" She howled.

Her heart thundered in her chest as she began to panic. Her efforts to punch her way out of the metal box were fruitless, the sturdy walls wouldn't give way under her hands. Memories of terrible tales about young girls taken and never seen again echoed in her head. She knew that if he managed to take her out of Republic City he would get away with this. Her friends wouldn't know where to begin looking for her. It wouldn't take long for her trail to go cold.

If he succeeded, he would win. She'd never see anyone she cared about ever again.

Korra pressed her forehead against the cold metal walls of her prison. She felt the dewy drops of tears settle on her small, fine lower lashes, threatening to spill over and down her cheeks. She clenched her fists and gnashed her teeth and tried to metal bend with all her might, but she hardly knew where to begin.

Tarrlok's heavy steps on the stairs fell on her ears like a death sentence. Intellectually, she knew he wouldn't kill her. She was his hostage. She knew she was only useful as long as she was alive, but this _felt_ like an execution.

She squeezed her eyes shut, clenched her teeth, and grimaced—trying to force her mind to stop spinning and think of something useful! But she couldn't gather her thoughts. She promised herself that as soon as he opened the box she would throw everything she had at him, even if it killed her. She would make him regret his decision.

She could hear his footsteps slow as he reached the top of the steps. The high-pitched groaning of the old boards lengthened as he lingered on the upper stairs. Then suddenly the sounds stopped.

"Amon!" Tarrlok's voice was filled with fear.

Korra gasped and recoiled from the cold, metal wall of her prison. Her eyes immediately turned in the direction of his voice. Even though she couldn't see anything through the thick metal walls that encased her. She couldn't bring herself to make another effort toward an escape. She could only listen, eyes wide with mounting terror at the knowledge that the Equalist Leader had found Tarrlok's hideout.

"It is time for you to be equalized."

Korra's mouth fell open. Her lips quivered as terror gripped her. She wrapped her arms around her body to try and stop herself from shuddering. Amon sounded as cold and cruel as ever.

 _Spirits! How had he found them?!_

The rasping groans of old floorboards signaled that someone was taking a stance. "You fool! You've never faced bending like mine!" Korra felt a surge of wild, desperate home blossom in her chest. Tarrlok sounded confident and he was probably right. Amon had probably never encountered a blood bender before, and certainly not one as skilled as Tarrlok!

She turned her gaze to the door and she closed her eyes, focusing on the sounds above her. She just hoped that Tarrlok could successfully fend off Amon. If he failed, they were both going to lose everything.

Perhaps it was a little fickle of her to change her opinion of her captor and of her dire situation so quickly, but if she had to choose between her two adversaries, she'd take Tarrlok over Amon any day. Tarrlok was just a corrupt politician. He was nowhere near as terrifying or evil as Amon. Besides, after a big fight, an injured Tarrlok would give her better odds for a successful escape.

She heard the heavy thuds of bodies hitting the floor upstairs. She counted four, maybe five Equalists including Amon. It sounded as though Tarrlok had made short work of the entire group…

… and then she heard footsteps. The heavy, steady sound of someone approaching the top of the stairs where she knew her kidnapper stood. The councilman had taken down the foot soldiers and maybe the electric-stick wielding lieutenant, but Amon was still up. And he was coming for Tarrlok.

The footsteps faltered, and for a brief moment desperate hope blossomed in Korra's chest. But then the sound of a slow, steady approach continued. The blood drained from the young Avatar's face, her eyes widened, she felt a tremor begin in her arms and legs, as her heart thundered in her ears.

 _Tarrlok's blood bending wasn't working on Amon._

Korra's breathing picked up. She ducked her head, unconsciously cowering in the metal box.

She could hear the creak of the floorboards as Tarrlok backed away. His steps sounded uncertain and even her unpracticed ear told her that his stance was no longer as strong as it had been in the beginning of the confrontation. She thought that she heard him gasp or say something, but she couldn't make out the words from where she stood. Her heart was thundering in her ears. All she could do was stand in the box and wonder:

 _Oh, spirits, what was he?_

Amon's dispassionate, solemn voice gave the answer: "I am the solution."

She heard the rustle of fabric, quick footsteps. She could almost see Amon's quick, precise movements as he took hold of Tarrlok. She heard the councilman's loud gasp of pain as the Equalist leader ruthlessly subdued him.

Tarrlok's cry of agony tore through the small, wooden house. She jerked, her head immediately and instinctively tilted upward at the noise. Her eyes were wide with shock and she felt a heavy weight settle in to the pit of her stomach as she heard the councilman's body hit the floor with a loud thud.

Amon had defeated the blood bender easily.

Cold, rational clarity abruptly cut through Korra's panic. There was no reason to wonder or question the situation anymore. The Equalist Leader had defeated Tarrlok and he'd probably come to collect her shortly. This was not the time to vent her fear and rage. If she wanted to survive, she had to come up with a plan right now.

So she stopped and listened.

She heard Amon speak again, "I'll take care of him."

There was something different about his voice. She couldn't tell if he sounded pleased or simply relieved, but there was a new, lighter quality to his voice that she hadn't heard before.

"You four retrieve the Avatar. Do not underestimate her. Electrocute the box to knock her out before you open it."

Korra's eyes widened sharply as she heard his order. She gritted her teeth. She had to act fast.

"My pleasure." Amon's Lieutenant sounded quite pleased at the opportunity to cause her harm. Maybe she'd done something offensive in one of their previous scuffles, or maybe he was just honored to have his commander hand off the Avatar to him.

Korra also wondered if Amon knew that she could hear him. Did he _want_ her to know what he'd just sent his lieutenant to do to her? She felt a new wave of fear wash over her, but it was a cold fear that served to further clear her mind. When she glanced around, she thought that she could see everything more vividly than ever before.

He was going to try and capture her. Then he would take her bending. Then everything would just… go to pieces. She had to stop him. The first step was saving herself.

She cast a quick look around her prison, searching for something to prevent her impending electrocution. There was nothing she could use. The entire box was made of metal.

She turned her keen eyes on her person for something that might protect her. She ran a hand over the thick, insulating, rubbery-leather of her forearm guard. She wasn't sure it could hold off the charge, but she'd give it a try.

She heard the Equalists descend. She quickly tugged the guard off her arm, lightly tossed the fabric over the small bars at the top of the box, and quietly lifted herself off the floor of the box so that she wasn't touching any of the metal. She needed to survive, but she needed to be quiet, if they believed that she'd been electrocuted then maybe she could escape when they opened the door. After all, it wouldn't be any good at all if they heard her and figured out her desperate plan.

The lieutenant's batons whooshed through the air outside her cell. Her biceps clenched as she pulled her legs up and further away from the floor in preparation for what was about to happen.

"It's payback time."

Electricity coursed through the metal. Korra curled into herself more tightly, closing her eyes and ducking her head instinctually to try and protect herself. She gritted her teeth and let out a long, strangled cry as the currents licked up and down the sides of the box, heating the cold metal walls.

Overhead, the single light danced and jerked as the electricity continued to pulse through the metal box. The bulb, overheated, shattered and she felt small shards of hot glass land in her hair and on her shoulders. The room darkened somewhat, but electric pulse of energy kept the space around her strangely illuminated. Light and heat danced around her, she could see the dangerous flashes, even with her eyes closed.

He kept the electric current flowing through the box for ten solid minutes before finally stopping. The walls of the metal box had grown warm from the charge. As soon as he was done, Korra let herself drop to the floor of the box. She lay perfectly still on the heated floor, doing her best to appear unconscious.

"Open the box." The lieutenant growled.

The door creaked and moaned as it opened. She heard the sound of breathing and footsteps. Korra could feel their eyes on her, studying her and assessing her condition without ever approaching her prone form.

"Tie her up."

She didn't bother to estimate how many there were, braced her hands on the floor and struck.

All it took was a bright blast of fire from the heel of her foot to send the group of Equalists reeling. Clearly they couldn't take the heat, but fire had never bothered Korra. She was on her feet in an instant. Like a well-trained fire bender, she followed the force of the blast, pushing through the fire and following its momentum to find the quickest path.

A few of her adversaries regrouped. A bola sailed over her head, she dropped, rolled and slammed her fist into the ground, sending the earth rolling under their feet. The Equalists went flying. She ran past her shocked adversaries, sprinted up the stairs, and threw herself at the wooden front door.

The door shattered into splinters at the force of her body slamming into it. She burst out of the dark cabin into a wall of freezing wind, and white atmosphere. For a passing moment, she couldn't see anything aside from the heavy graying clouds that seemed to hang around the peaks and snow-laden flurries that embraced her. She blinked once, twice, as her eyes adjusted to the new environment and tiny snowflakes came to cling to her lashes…

… and found herself hurtling into the arms of a thoroughly shocked Equalist Leader.

Momentum was not her friend.

When she'd body-slammed the door, she hadn't counted on the top step being icy. Even her moccasins, designed for the snow-covered tundra of the South, hadn't been able to find purchase. She was half-sliding, half-sailing over the slick, frozen wood.

She could not stop. She could not change direction. She could only watch in horror as Amon drew closer. She saw his masked face tilt upwards. His eyes—which were blue, she hadn't noticed that before—widened behind the knife-shaped eye-holes of his mask as he realized she was on a collision course with him. His entire body tensed and then….

For a passing moment, Korra thought that she moved more slowly through the air than she should have… But Amon moved with surprising speed as he slid backward, his body dropping into a fighting stance. Then he reached for her.

Korra knew what was going to happen.

 _He was going to catch her._

 _And then he'd take her bending away._

Her eyes narrowed and she pulled back her left fist. She reached for the water and ice that surrounded her. She swore he wouldn't take her bending without a fight… but the element wasn't responding right… like something was blocking her ability…

Amon reached across and with his right hand and caught her right arm. Korra felt herself being turned—no, forcibly positioned to have her bending removed… She pulled at the water around her as hard as she could and it answered. As her back slammed hard against Amon's chest, she changed hands, passing control to her right hand, as she struck with her left.

First, her left elbow slammed into his ribs and there was a satisfying crack. She heard Amon gasp in pain, but she wasn't done yet. The blow had caused him to release her right arm and permitted her to continue the spin he'd started her on. So the back of her fist found his side again, striking him just below his ribs. He let out a satisfying yelp at her successful blow to his kidney.

As she faced him, she brought her right hand overhead and then down sharply, and the ice-blade followed her arm's trajectory. Amon moved to the right, twisting as he did so to parry her downward strike with his right hand. He was quick enough to stop her fist from connecting with the meaty part of his shoulder, but he didn't think to try and stop the blade. As the frozen tendril stabbed into his shoulder muscle—just barely missing his major arteries—he let out a sharp cry of pain…

But instead of going through his shoulder and incapacitating him—pinning him to the ground like an icy piece of rebar—the blade stopped dead. Korra moved to punch him again with a solid left to his other side, but he caught her wrist and spun her again. This time, his leg shot out, neatly catching her ankle, and bringing her to her knees.

Korra yelped in pain as his hand slammed into the back of her neck. She felt her body arch sharply, but it felt wrong—her body didn't want to move that way, this was unnatural—but she didn't have time to think about that. Amon gripped the back of her neck like she was a misbehaving kitten pup.

She stared up into the dark eye holes of his mask. She could only just make out the pale edges of his blue irises. The angle of his face made it appear as though that demonic, wooden guise were smiling down on her. She opened her mouth to scream in terror and tried to force her body to move—to do something to stop him from taking her bending away…

But she couldn't move. She could barely breathe. Everything hurt so much. It was like ten thousand hands had reached inside of her body and taken hold of her insides.

His hand came down.

His fingers pressed against her forehead.

Something deep within her skull moved. It was a horrible, unnatural feeling—not unlike a bone being dislocated, but this was softer, uglier—and it was excruciatingly painful. The young Avatar screamed out her agony. She thought the shrill peel of her cry would fill her ears and drown out some of the hurt, but her voice sounded far away. Somehow, the suffering and the emptiness that seemed to fill up every part of her felt louder.

And then it was over.

Korra's frightened, wide eyes rolled back in her head. She half expected him to let her fall forward into the snow, but he kept his painfully firm grip on the back of her neck and held her there. He was the only thing holding her up. The world was swimming and tilting strangely around her. She could feel herself shaking as she knelt there, but not from the cold.

She heard footsteps and then voices. Someone asked if Amon was alright. Another rushed forward.

Distantly she heard Amon snarl, "I told you not to underestimate her!" The hand on the back of her neck tightened sharply. "I had to take away her bending prematurely due to your incompetence!"

Korra felt her eyes soften and slip closed. Her ears and head felt like they were stuffed full of cotton. She couldn't hear or even think anymore. Her world went black for a moment.

The world swam in and out of focus. She was on the ground, staring across powdery snow at booted feet. She blinked, or she thought she blinked, but perhaps more time had passed. She was no longer on the ground, but she was moving toward dark shapes behind a veil of snow. Thick, soft snowflakes stuck to her lashes and brows, making her face feel tight and heavy. She couldn't hear anything except the sound of her shaky, labored breathing and the throbbing rush of blood in her veins.

She blinked and looked around. She could see the world moving up and down slowly, as though someone was carrying her. She didn't have the strength move and if she focused she could just make sense of a strong grip holding her body tightly. She was being cradled in powerful arms like some sort of princess. She could feel tension in the formidable grip of the person who was carrying her. The left arm, which supported her upper body was shaky; but they held her in such a way as to prevent any attempt at struggle.

Their efforts were unnecessary. As soon as Korra realized that she was being carried, she'd struggled to force her body to move, but found that she simply could not. Even the effort of trying to move her hand to brush the snow off her face was impossible.

The man—she was certain it was a man, the build was wrong for a woman—came to a slow stop near a large, hulking dark shape that radiated warmth. There was the sound of metal grinding against metal; not unlike the grating sounds that the door of Tarrlok's metal box had made when it opened and closed. Korra's captor gently set her down on the warm, hard floor of a dark space. As she was lowered into the gloom, her body was turned and she could see the person who'd carried her.

Korra stared blurrily at Amon's emotionless mask. She realized that she'd just been loaded into an Equalist vehicle. She couldn't muster the strength to be afraid of him, but his presence and proximity sickened her.

His skin crawled as he leaned over her and she closed her eyes tightly to block out the sight of him. She wanted to be as far away from Amon as possible, but she couldn't even lift a finger to try and pull her prone body away. Her face flushed with humiliation and her eyes felt damp with unshed tears.

As she lay cringing in his presence, Amon reached across her body to carefully position her arms and legs so that she rested comfortably. She didn't want him to touch her, when he touched her she noticed things about him. Right now, she couldn't help but notice his hands.

 _He had human hands._

She hated the thought, but she could hardly ignore them as he moved over her methodically, arranging her like a limp doll.

 _They were warm, strong, and calloused like her father's hands._

Korra's eyes opened wide at the thought that Amon might have anything in common with her father. Her father had always sought to protect and guide her, even though she was the Avatar. The Equalist Leader wanted nothing more than to subdue and destroy her.

She didn't want to admit that Amon was in any way like her father. She didn't want to imagine that he was just as human as the man who'd loved her, comforted her, and raised her in a little house in the South Pole. The thought that Amon might have married a woman like her mother and had a daughter like her…

 _It horrified her._

 _But she didn't know why._

She forced herself to look at him as he continued to carefully move her limbs until they sat, 'just so.'

Looking at him made everything worse. With every passing moment she found herself cataloguing details and things reminded her of her father. Amon's height, the broadness of his shoulders, his pale blue eyes, his ability to subdue an opponent and his capacity to be gentle when it suited him… in all these ways, he was like her father.

She hated herself for thinking it. To compare Tonraq to Amon felt like a betrayal. Her father was a good, kind man, who genuinely cared about her, and worried about her wellbeing. Amon was a monster. But her mind could not let go of the thought, it kept cycling through her head, tormenting her.

 _They should have nothing in common at all._

As her eyes drifted over Amon's form, she found her gaze drawn to the red stain on his shoulder. There was something wrong with what she saw. Her brow furrowed a little, but she didn't have the strength to really glare at the wound as she would have liked.

She'd been aiming to do significant damage with that blade of ice. Even though she hadn't succeeded in skewering him, she knew that she'd injured him quite badly. Even though she'd missed the vital arteries, there should have been much more blood on his uniform. He shouldn't have been able to carry her to the truck.

 _How was that even possible!?_

She felt a thrill of fear, but also a great relief.

 _He wasn't just as human as her father after all._

Amon noticed her steady gaze. He stopped arranging her and returned her stare. Then he leaned his massive form over her body, throwing his shadow over her smaller form as he reached up toward her face. She flinched and closed her eyes as she felt his warm pads of his fingers trace along her forehead down the side of her face and gently brush along the underside of her jaw.

His hand came to rest on her neck. Something pressed and clenched near the base of neck on her right side—it was like she'd been struck on a chi-point, hard, but his hands never moved to strike. She yelped in pain, her body bucked. As her vision faded to black, she could see Amon's mask leering down at her.

"Rest, Avatar. I'm not done with you yet."

[] [] []

Tarrlok opened his eyes to an unknown darkness and sat up slowly. His hands searched around for a bit of wall he could lean against. He didn't think he could hold himself upright at the moment. His head was spinning and he felt nauseous and unbalanced—it was like he had a terrible hangover.

 _This wasn't a bad hangover._

He didn't know where he was and he wasn't exactly certain of what had happened to him, but he knew that he still wore the same clothing he'd been wearing when he'd fallen asleep. There was a musky, human scent and softness that clothing took on after being slept in. It brought him back to his years serving in the Northern Army—a miserable time when training was brutal and under-supplied, scouting missions kept him out on the frigid wastes for far longer than he would have liked.

The brutal conditions had incentivized his rapid ascent through the ranks. Especially since those late, freezing nights out on the ice fields brought him back to his childhood. On those freezing nights in the arctic he'd wake late in the night, feeling cold and anxious. His father's rages always seemed more real in the darkest hours and the fear of failure kept him awake until he could do nothing, but practice his bending again and again.

On those cold nights he had to practice or allow himself relive his one father's rages. Unless he was physically incapacitated, he always got up and ran through forms. Surrendering to the anxiety ended the episodes far more quickly.

Of course, recalling those horrible nights of endless practice from his years in the Northern Army took him back to his childhood. The darkness that engulfed him served to sharpen his memory and made the recollections all too vivid. He was back in his childhood room, sitting up in the bed he'd shared with his older brother throughout their childhood.

Of course, when his murky memories took him back to those troubled times, his childhood room was never the bright, cheerfully decorated space where he could find some measure of pleasure and privacy during the daylight ours. Whenever he woke in the night, he was always transported back to that suffocating, quiet, dark room that smelled of tanned hides, musty clothes, and human perspiration.

He could not quite understand why he best remembered that sanctum best as shadowy space full of heavy scents. He couldn't fathom why his nightmares took him back to those countless infrequent nights when he'd wake to stare into the darkness and agonize about 'tomorrow.' In those nightmares, 'tomorrow' was always the next hunting trip and it was always going to be the hunting trip he dreaded most—the one where his father decided that he was done with him. As a child, he'd wake up the night before the hunting trip and wonder if it would be his last.

Maybe this time his father would leave him out in the snowy wilderness to die?

His late night contemplation continued long after his father passed away. And now things were no different. He'd awoken to a similar darkness as he had on those long, cold nights on the tundra with the soldiers. He'd been pulled out of dreamless sleep again and again even after his father's death by the familiar feeling of sleep-worn clothes and tanned hide. No matter how he changed his room, whenever he opened his eyes in the dark, it always looked and smelled the same.

When he'd secured a political career in Republic City, he'd made a point of ensuring his surroundings were as different from his childhood room as possible. But it did nothing. He still woke in the darkness to darkness and the scent of musty clothes, tanned hides, and perspiration. He still stared into the pitch black and swore that his tormentor, his father, was in the room with him. Standing by and staring down at him from some distant corner, beyond the edge of the darkness.

 _When morning came, they would go hunting. His father would put him to the test. He would inevitably fail to measure up. Then the berating would start. First came the insults and the cold, resentful looks. Then came the comments about how ashamed Yakone was to have fathered such a weakling, how Tarrlok was pathetic and should have done them all a favor and died before he was old enough to be this much of a disappointment… Finally, there would be the threat that if he dared to disappoint him again, Yakone would leave him on the tundra to die._

The fear and self-loathing that gripped him in the small hours of the morning drove him to drink, to fuck, to do anything to make himself too tired to wake up and relive the nightmare. But his efforts were for naught. Drinking in excess made the night visions more real and brought vivid nightmares. Lovers meant witnesses to his moments of intense vulnerability, he risked exposure and shame with every tryst, and he quickly found that he wanted neither comfort or sympathy…

Other exertions and efforts fell by the wayside. No matter how tired he was, no matter what medicine he swallowed to plunge him into a dreamless sleep, he would still wake in the night and find himself transported back to his childhood room. He would still swear that his father stood there, just beyond the darkness waiting for morning. He still rose in the night to run through forms until he felt too tired to move…

Now, sitting in this oppressive darkness in this unknown room it was no different. The memory of his childhood night terrors were just as fresh and real as they'd been over twenty-three years ago. So, he sat there in the dark, feeling small and frail and alone and looked around as he always did. He took in the dim shape of the curved wooden walls. The smell of musty clothing, tanned hides, and human perspiration filled his nose and mouth. He could feel eyes staring at him from somewhere just beyond the blackness. His father's words echoed in his head.

He knew it was all in his head. He knew that it was a trick of the mind. A horrible, abhorrent habit that he could not drive back, but it felt so real…

 _But then it was real, wasn't it?_

True, he wasn't a child. He wasn't in his childhood room. His clothes were musty and sleep-worn, true. But there was no tanned hide. The sweat he smelt was his own. His father wasn't standing beyond the edge of the darkness, looking down on him.

But he was in a dark room and his tormentor was out there, beyond the edge of the darkness. When morning came, his tormentor would come and the violence would start again. Things would be just as they'd been all those years ago. This time, however, his tormentor was not his father—it was his brother.

 _When his brother came, he would learn a new kind of suffering._

He grimaced in disgust. His head dropped forward and his chin rest against his chest as his fingers dragged across the floor of the unknown room. It was cold and he could feel the grit gathering underneath his fingernails.

 _He should have known that his brother would be the cause of all his problems._

While nothing could quite replace the dark recollections of his childhood, he knew that his current situation was far worse. He was alone, in a dark, unknown room—probably a cell—in an undetermined location. His blood bending prodigy of a brother was out there somewhere, planning the fall of Republic City, and, probably, his very public and violent demise.

 _But did it really matter if he died? He'd lost everything._

Everything he'd worked for over the years, a lifetime of effort and struggle had been demolished. He'd been so close. He'd had the city in the palm of his hand. He'd been so close to proving his father wrong. He'd been so close to proving everyone wrong—showing all those people who'd looked down on him and called him a back-woods hick that they knew nothing!

Yes, he'd been a hick. He'd been a hick from a nowhere village, tucked away in the distant and desolate reaches of the north. But he'd won a position of power and respect in the military and then he'd worked his way up in the world with ruthless efficiency. He'd charmed, bullied, bribed, coerced, seduced, and backstabbed his way into the Northern Courts. And he hadn't been subtle about it—he hadn't needed to be subtle about it.

 _Now it was all gone._

Years of work had unraveled so quickly.

His struggles to distinguish himself in the military and earn the respect of his betters: gone.

His efforts to win Unalaq's favor by any means necessary: gone.

His work to carefully and strategically move himself into a position of absolute power: gone.

 _It was all coming apart._

He'd had the entire Republic City Council under his thumb and he'd lost it all because…

Because…

His first instinct was to blame the Avatar. She'd come in like a lion-bull in a ceramics shop and torn everything up, but really, who was to blame for his fall? Right now he didn't think it was the force of nature that had swept into the City to overturn his efforts.

His nightmares had come to life beneath the streets of Republic City. If he'd known, he would have fled to another Nation and claimed his power there. Maybe he would have taken up a post in the South Pole—Unalaq had wanted him in that seat—closer to the Northern throne and closer to the seat of Water Tribe Power.

 _His nightmares…_

His own brother had lurked on the edge of his conscious for decades like some dark, vile spirit—like face stealer Koh. His brother had become a faceless, terrible, being that was too powerful; an adversary that no one could beat. He was a quiet horror that Tarrlok didn't dare speak of, for fear that even mentioning his name would summon him back from the blizzard that had swallowed him years ago. And now, as he sat in an unknown cell in an unknown place, he had to admit for all his planning and effort, he'd never really achieved his true goal at all. He'd never managed to become better than his brother.

As he looked back at the events that led him to this juncture, he could see clearly how all his plans were destined to unravel. From the very start Noatak had controlled the situation. His brother had played every card he'd been dealt perfectly to achieve the ultimate end of absolute control of Republic City. While Noatak plotted and planned in the shadows, Tarrlok had believed that the Equalists were playing into his hands. The joke was on him. He'd been playing into their hands.

He should have hesitated when he'd learned that Sato was an Equalist. The man was always goading him about what the Council was doing to make the city safer, always subtly mocking him. Noatak had clearly taught the industrialist what to say to get under his skin.

When the Avatar arrived, Tarrlok had seen it as a boon. But he should have seen it for what it truly was—a sign that the situation was far more dangerous than he'd ever realized. Looking back, her unwelcome upheaval of his plans would have saved him from this predicament. Her seemingly foolish, desperate warnings, and accusations about going too far now rang in his ears.

Even still, even with the Avatar bearing down on him, he should have been able to control the situation. He knew what he was capable of and how far he'd go to achieve his end. He knew what he'd done to achieve power and he'd do worse if he thought it would get him into a better position. But he'd been arrogant and foolish.

Thinking back on it, he could see everything so clearly. The Avatar was not a force to be feared, but a pawn that could be managed. If he'd just taken a moment to stop and think, if he'd just stopped acting on the orders and expectations of the Northern powers and the Council, he could have managed her far better. After all, they were the ones who held the young Avatar in contempt. They didn't want to be beholden to her power and they hated the thought of one of their own acting beholden.

 _But, behaving as if beholden to your adversary was often the best way into a better position of control._

He should have thought about that before he'd sloppily engaged with her. But he'd been eager to please and eager to drive her into a position that favored not only his endgame, but also the endgame of his superiors. He'd been so eager and willing to please.

 _He'd sought to please everyone and in the end pleased no one, least of all himself._

But powerful individuals had surrounded him, each one pushing him in a different direction. Unalaq had urged him to win the Avatar's trust and bring her into his confidence. The Northern nobles had urged him to keep himself away from the Avatar, they feared that a close association would make him seem weak and that would reflect badly on the North. The council pushed him to act apart from the Avatar, to show the authority and might of Republic City while keeping her close at the same time—he should lead the young Avatar. Tenzin had wanted her kept as far away as possible and the Avatar had sought to pursue childish games and trivial pastimes—seemingly disinterested in the turmoil that surrounded her.

And through all this the people of Republic City were looking for a hero. And he'd worked to meet their demands. When they feared the Equalists, he assembled a task force. When they felt abandoned by their Avatar, he'd taken control. When they lost faith in leaders, he removed them and replaced them with competent people who would assist him in his endeavors. And then…

 _He had gone too far and, in crossing those lines, fed Noatak's revolution._

He should have known that his actions would only help his brother's agenda. He should have considered how bad things really were in the city. He should have realized that the Avatar would overact when he pushed her and took her friends away from her.

Avatar Korra's words rang in his head, _"You're just like Amon!"_ He was, wasn't he? He was just like Amon. The fact that they were brothers, that they came from the same father and mother. They shared the same blood and the same abilities. They were both monsters.

 _Ah…_ Tarrlok sighed.

What was the point of it all, anyway? What was the point of going over everything that he should have done differently? It wasn't like there was going to be another chance. All of the 'would haves' and 'could haves' would never take back what had been done.

 _There wasn't really a point to any of it, was there?_

 _He'd been beaten before he'd even started._

He couldn't compete with Noatak. Hell, if he' d known that Amon and his brother were one in the same, he would have played a different hand. He would have left Republic City—no, he would have destroyed it! After all, this was Yakone's city. This was where their corrupt bloodline started. This was the place that he and his brother came to after all these years. They were bound to this place.

He clenched his fists. He'd have started his path of destruction by hunting down every single Equalist and annihilating them. He'd have exposed their leader and shamed them and then he'd have turned on the benders and burnt down their homes and destroyed their work and left them with nothing but a memory of a City that was rotten to its very core.

This place had destroyed everything. Even the Avatar. He was now certain that the Avatar's little trip to Republic City had been a test of her mettle. She'd been drawn to the City by the imbalance caused by the Equalists. She'd been allowed to stay as a first trial. And, judging by the outcome of his current situation, she'd failed her trial rather miserably… or rather, she'd been soundly defeated by Noatak and his Revolution.

 _Noatak… Equalists… Fairness…_

 _Spirits._

He felt like such a fool. He should have seen it, should have considered that maybe the leader was, at least, a man similar to his brother—there was no way that he would have ever suspected that Amon and Noatak were one in the same, but he should have considered the similarities! Now that he knew who Amon really was, he could see that the Equalist ideologies were clearly drawn from their childhood and Noatak's perceptions of fairness and equality.

He groaned in frustration.

Clearly, Noatak's obsession with making everything fair and equal had not faded over the years, but had grown into an insane obsession. An obsession that he was only too happy to impose on everyone in Republic City and—if his claims were to be believed—the entire world.

 _Not that Noatak knew anything about what fairness and equality actually looked like. It was so easy to be 'fair' when everything came easily…._

Life had always been easier for Noatak than it had been for Tarrlok. That easiness, that free ride, meant that it was a simple matter for Noatak to be 'fair' to his little brother. After all, Noatak wasn't the one who bore the brunt of their father's ire and disdain. Oh, yes, he always thought that he defended Tarrlok from their father, but Noatak received praise. Tarrlok did not. Noatak received special gifts and tokens of kindness. Tarrlok did not. And no amount of sharing could change the fact that Tarrlok knew—had always known—that Noatak would always receive the better part of their parents' love.

Over the years, what had started off as small acts of kindness—attempts at defending Tarrlok from their father—had become a constant reminder of how pathetic and unwanted the younger son was in their father's eyes. It was patronizing and it always served to remind Tarrlok of who he was and where he stood. He wasn't allowed to stand up for himself. Noatak never considered him strong enough to make a stand against their father.

 _Blessed Noatak._

 _Good Noatak._

 _Perfect Noatak._

 _Noatak was praised and loved. Tarrlok was despised and viewed as a waste of space._

Tarrlok shuddered and curled into himself.

Noatak was alive. The knowledge had given Tarrlok a fleeting moment of joy, before plunging him back into the familiar pit of resentment and rage. And the Councilman found himself quickly wishing that his brother had died in that blizzard all those years ago. It was easier to think fondly on a dead Noatak than a living one.

Yes, Noatak had a lot of nerve showing up in Republic City now. After all these years… After years of quietly searching and hoping and waiting—after years of stifled anger and desperate hope—he showed up here and now, wearing the face of a fucking monster. _What made him think that he had the right to come crawling back after leaving them all behind?_

A bitter sense of triumph welled within Tarrlok. Didn't Noatak know that he was too late in returning? That he'd come to knock at the door of the wrong family member? There was no one here to cheer for him, to praise him for his good work. There was no one who wanted him here.

There was only Tarrlok.

Their mother might be more receptive to the return of her prodigal son, but he suspected that she was half-mad now or dead from grief at the loss of her precious Noatak. He hadn't spoken to her in years. When he received letters, he didn't bother opening them anymore, because he knew that she'd mention Noatak and he couldn't stand her continued adoration of her eldest. There was no point in trying to communicate with her. She had nothing to say to him. He wasn't sure she had anything to say to anyone anymore—she'd become withdrawn and deeply depressed after Noatak's 'death.'

And father? Father was dead, thank the spirits.

So there was no one of sane and reasonable mind left to love the precious, genius child anymore. There was only Noatak's pathetic, helpless, weak, and cowardly baby brother. And that brother wished that Noatak had stayed dead.

Tarrlok sighed.

 _Even after all this…_ After everything he'd done to escape his brother's shadow, he found himself once again in the dark.

It was as if Noatak had blocked out the sun.

He'd never get away, would he? He'd always be Noatak's little brother. He'd always come in second place, no matter what he did. He would always be in second place. Less loved, less wanted, lesser than the amazing and glorious Noatak.

He could still clearly remember every dismissal, every instance when his father paid just a little more attention to Noatak. Every time that Noatak was praised while a fist came down on his head for not showing the same talent as his older brother. All of Tarrlok's promise and talent for water bending meant nothing in the face of Noatak's genius. He was a prodigy, after all.

And then Noatak had left them. And Tarrlok had learned exactly where he stood in the family.

He'd refused to harm his brother—he'd stood up to their father and refused to blood bend his own brother. This was immediately after the same brother hadn't hesitated to blood bend him into submission. He'd been the better person; he'd stood up when Noatak, for all his defending, had only stood by.

In the end, his act of bravery hadn't mattered.

As soon as Noatak saw that their father could be confronted, he'd wasted no time in taking complete control over the situation. At the time, Tarrlok had been grateful, his brother had saved him from a furious beating; a beating that Tarrlok would not have defended himself against. That defense had been welcome. Noatak's spur of them moment decision to make an even bigger gesture—to over shadow his brother's act of bravery with the decision to leave them—was not.

Tarrlok had gone over the scenario again and again, tormented by his brother's final words to him; " _He was right about you, you are a weakling."_ But was he really? Could a weakling have advanced so quickly through the ranks of the military? Could a weakling have cut down his political adversaries, destroyed their reputations and careers, and taken them for all they were worth to feed his own ambition?

No. Tarrlok was not weak. He knew that now. But Noatak was a coward. Noatak had always had the power to stand up to their father, but Tarrlok—the reviled, so-called weakling had been the one to take a stand. When Noatak had decided to leave, Tarrlok had chosen to stay behind with their mother and with the man who still haunted his nightmares. He'd bothered to consider the dear, sweet woman who had no idea what her husband was doing to her sons.

 _The spoilt and beloved prince had fled his home to find a new one, while the whipping boy, like a dog, stayed with his master in spite of the beatings and abuse._

He'd stayed behind for his mother. He'd feared what their father would do to her after the loss of Noatak. Besides, Tarrlok had always born the worst of it. He'd thought he could handle anything that his father might dish out. Someone had to bear the brunt of their father's wrath and with Noatak gone, who else was going to protect her. If he stayed, he could defend their mother and keep her safe. She'd never have to know the truth about their father.

Things hadn't gone the way he'd expected. His father never raised a hand against their mother. His father never raised a hand against him again. He didn't speak to him either, or acknowledge his existence. Tarrlok was lucky if his father so much as looked at the space he occupied.

After only a month, Tarrlok found himself missing the abuse. The abuse, after all, was a form of acknowledgement, some sign that his life was worth something. His father died only a few years later—he wasted away into nothing, unable to cope with the loss of his precious Noatak.

The worst part were the questions and requests that he started to make as he reached the end of his life: "Where's Noatak? I want to speak to Noatak. I need to see my son. Where is he?" He never once asked for Tarrlok. The younger son might as well have never existed.

He watched his mother desperately tend to their father, helping when he could, since their father did not seem to see him at all. But even being near her became difficult those occasions when he met her gaze he thought he could see the quiet, unspoken questions lurking there behind her eyes, _'Why did Noatak have to die? Why couldn't it have been Tarrlok?'_

 _That quiet look still haunted his nightmares._

But in dreams she always asked the questions aloud. Somehow it made him feel better to hear her say the words. He could rail against them when they were spoken aloud.

But he couldn't blame her for wondering. He often wondered why he'd bothered to stay, or even why he bothered to live. He sometimes wondered what it would have been like to follow his brother into the blizzard. What would it have been like to suffer and die in the cold?

 _Why had he dared to dream that maybe his mother had wanted at least one of them to come home?_

 _Why had he imagined that his return might have some meaning?_

 _Tarrlok. Second son, second place, second best._

 _Unwanted._

Now, after all these years, after letting his little brother make a stand when he never could, after running away from his problems like a damn coward, after leaving his little brother to try and hold their family together, he'd come back. And he'd hardly changed. He was still a lying, desperate coward who set himself up as a defender to make himself feel better about his 'tragic past.'

A choked, broken laugh tore from his shuddering chest as he sat there on the floor of the dark room, staring into the pitch-black void.

 _The Equalist Movement._

 _The Equalist Revolution._

 _Really?_

 ** _Really?_**

 _This from the_ _ **favorite**_ _child?_

 _This from mother and father's_ _ **most precious one**_ _?_

How dare he…?

 _How_ _ **dare**_ _he?!_

 _How dare he speak of equality after they life he'd lived?_

Tarrlok's jaw clenched and his teeth ground together.

After years of proving himself again and again to everyone he ever encountered, after endlessly justifying his right to dignity and recognition, his brother had the nerve to show up now? He had the nerve to show up, whole and healthy, leading a Revolution? Insult was heaped upon injury without a thought!

 _His brother should have died in that damn blizzard._

His chest shuddered again as he gasped for breath. He hadn't noticed the tensing, clenching muscles or the ache in his chest as long buried emotions washed over him. He ran a hand over his face and found it wet.

"How long have I been crying?"

He swallowed back a sob that caught in his throat. He didn't want anyone to know about the pain he was in. He didn't want to deal with that new humiliation, not with the old wounds open and raw.

There was soft sound in the darkness, disturbingly close by. Tarrlok flinched and pulled himself straighter, his hands reached for the wall. He pulled himself to his feet and began adjusting his clothes; he didn't want anyone to see him in such a state of complete disrepair. After only a moment he realized that his efforts were in vain. His clothes were rumpled, his hair unkempt, and he'd been crying for some time. There was no way he could make himself presentable and there was nowhere to hide.

 _He'd just have to deal with it._

He blinked and realized that the darkness had abated somewhat. He could actually make out his surroundings. He was currently leaning against one wall of the cell. To his left he could see a wall of open bars, which gave him no privacy in the event that someone came to pay him a visit. The large, wooden door to the entire prison block was in clear view of his cell. To his right, he could just make out a small, narrow window that showed a small stretch of snowy pavement.

He thought back to the conditions that Amon had kept Lin's soldiers in. He snorted and chuckled. Noatak was giving him nice accommodations. He was one of the prisoners who had a room with a window and a cell that was placed away from the walkways, so he wouldn't be taunted by passing Equalists. Indeed, he was in the penthouse of the prison quarters.

A soft moan echoed in his cell.

He staggered over to the bars on unsteady feet and looked as far as he could up and down the row. There were only four cells. He thought the moaning came from the cell next to his own, the one on the other side of the wall he'd been resting against for some time.

He looked at the wall he'd been leaning against and froze.

There, at just about eye-level, was a small hole in the thick, stone wall. The hole looked just big enough for him to be able to peer through into the other cell. He made his way over to the hole, leaning heavily on the wall, and peered through.

In the dim light of what he presumed was the early morning he could make out the shadow of a curvaceous female form, sprawled out on the floor.

 _Could it be?_

"Korra?" His voice crackled strangely. He sounded tired and broken even to his own ear.

He coughed and tried again, louder this time, "Korra?"

There was no response.

He tried once more. "Avatar Korra?"

[] [] []

Korra shifted and rolled over. She blinked; or rather she thought she'd blinked it was possible that she'd only imagined blinking. The darkness that engulfed her made it almost impossible to tell if she'd opened her eyes or not and something told her that it was early. She hated mornings. She hated mornings so much…

She groaned and rolled over slowly. The ground under her was hard and cold and so much worse than the simple, flat beds at the air temple. It was going to be impossible to get comfortable and go back to sleep.

Wait…

 _Why was she sleeping on the ground?_

The events of the past few days came back to her in a wave of horrible, vivid memories. She groaned loudly and covered her face with her hands.

 _Oh spirits._

 _Oh_ spirits!

Oh… _spirits!_

Tarrlok was a blood bender, he was Yakone's son, and Amon had captured them both. Her bending was gone. Tarrlok's bending was gone. Everything had gone straight to-! To-!

She mentally ran down the list of every single swearword that she'd ever heard her father utter, but she wasn't allowed to say, because she was the Avatar.

Yes. _All of that._ ALL _of it._ The situation had gone to _ALL the swears_. _ALL of them._

They were in so, _so_ much trouble! She'd screwed up so badly!

A voice broke through the darkness and interrupted her spiraling thoughts. "Korra?" She thought she recognized it. "Avatar Korra?"

Korra rolled upright and turned in the direction the voice was coming from. She knew who it was. "Tarrlok." By the spirits, if they'd put him in the same cell with her she'd give him _such_ a whooping. This was entirely his fault! If he hadn't captured her, she wouldn't have been captured by Amon and… and…

Oh no. _She couldn't bend anymore._

The fight went out of her and she slumped forward, her gaze dropping to the floor. "I can't…" The tears came, so hot it felt like they burned as they slipped from her eyes and coursed down her cheeks.

 _No._

 _No. I can't cry now! I can't let them see!_

She rubbed the tears away with a few clumsy swipes of her arm over her face.

His voice broke through her thoughts again, which was a relief because if she focused on his voice she didn't have to focus on the horrible, heart-rending feelings of helplessness and fear that were coursing through her. "I am sorry. I am so, so sorry." He sounded pretty pathetic right now and that made her feel better. At least she wasn't alone in her abject, pathetic misery. "I should have stopped to listen to you, but I was afraid and angry and I just…" She stared resentfully at the wall that his voice was coming out of. "I thought I could be the hero."

Korra flinched. She hadn't been expecting an apology, especially one that sounded so heartfelt. She wasn't sure what to say to him at first, but she was the Avatar. She had to say something. So she took a deep breath and came up with something that was manageable. "You made a mistake." It was all she could say. She couldn't forgive him. Not yet.

She closed her eyes and took a few deep, steadying breaths. Okay. She was on her own—sure, Tarrlok was there, but he didn't count, so yeah, she was virtually on her own—and she needed to get out. Without her bending, because she couldn't bend anymore.

She nearly lay back down to curl up and cry, but now was not the time for tears. She had to pee very badly right now and crying would probably make it uncomfortable. So, she took another couple of deep, steadying breaths to keep herself from bursting into tears and pulled herself to her feet.

Tarrlok spoke up again, "Listen, Korra, I-!"

Korra cut him off. "Tarrlok."

"Yes?" he asked hesitantly.

She frowned, blushed, and said very loudly and very unhappily, "I have to pee."

"Oh."

Korra huffed and fretted with herself as she shuffled over to the filthy hold in the ground in the corner and unfastened her pants to do her business. She crouched down and struggled to contain her embarrassment. She could hear Tarrlok moving around in the other cell and if she could hear him, he could probably hear her going to the bathroom.

And that was really, really gross and embarrassing.

Nevertheless, she was rather pleased with herself. It was pretty surprising that she'd been able to hold her water during that run-in with Amon. Of course, she'd been rather determined not to ruin her only pair of pants and usually when she was determined that something would happen, it did.

When she was finished and buttoned up, she looked around her cell. Stone walls on three sides, a hole in the floor for a toilet, and a cot with blankets and pillows against one wall. Simple, utilitarian, and devoid of anything that looked like it might help her escape.

Escape was at the forefront of Korra's mind. She _had_ to get herself out of this place before Amon did something really horrible. But she couldn't use her bending and _Tarrlok_ of all people was in the next cell.

Tarrlok, the jerk who was responsible for all her pain and suffering and fear, was right over there and she couldn't pound her way through the wall to get to him and beat all of her frustration into him. She bet he thought he was safe. She bet he thought that he'd still find a way to get away with this, maybe he'd go turncoat and try and crawl into Amon's lap. That'd be something. He probably thought he was a clever bastard.

Tarrlok _was_ a clever bastard.

Now that she'd had time to wake up and go to the bathroom, she'd remembered that even though she was angry with him, he'd been right about at least one thing—they did make a good team. Maybe she could win him over before he tried to turn the tables and join Amon's forces? They could both escape and save the city and then somehow… Korra would get her bending back. Maybe Katara could heal her?

Maybe Katarra _could_ heal her!

She had nothing to lose and everything to gain. So she spoke up again to ask him a simple question: "Do you still believe that what Amon is doing is wrong?"

She heard Tarrlok shift against the wall that divided their cells. "With all my heart." He said the words with such conviction that he sounded like some sort of dramatic romantic hero from a radio program.

Korra swallowed her scorn even as she sneered into the darkness and thought, ' _some hero_.' She needed him on her side. She'd hide her contempt for now, she'd give him hell for the blood bending once this was over… and then maybe she'd forgive him like Aang had forgiven Lord Zuko, but that would come later.

 _Much later._

She drew a heavy breath and let out a long, calming sigh. Tarrlok wasn't much, but he'd do in a pinch. She stood and approached the wall. She supposed she out to at least give a bit of an apology as well. "I'm sorry that I tore your office apart, I overreacted." Yeah, she'd overreacted. But he had overreacted as well… _jerk-face blood bender_. She put her hands on her hips and did her best to sound confident and in-control. "I think, if we put our differences aside, we can come up with a solid escape plan. Once we're out we can work together to take down Amon and the Equalists for good." She was certain that he'd go along with her idea and they'd be able to set to work immediately.

Tarrlok let out a loud, harsh laugh. "Do you think it would do any good?" His laughter started to sound weird, like gasping sobs. But he couldn't be crying. This was Tarrlok, he didn't cry for anyone. "Spirits." He gulped and choked. "He's more powerful than you know, Korra."

Korra edged closer to the opening in the wall. "What do you mean?"

Tarrlok gave a sickly chuckle. "I know who Amon is."

There was something in the way Tarrlok said the words that sent a cold chill down Korra's spine. Her eyes widened and she drew closer to the wall, until she was pressed up against it. All her attention was focused on Tarrlok. "You mean…" She began uncertainly, but she could feel the thrill of excitement coursing through her. "You know who's under that mask?!" She spoke with a kind of hushed reverence.

"Yes."

Korra stared at the stones in the wall, she almost imagined that she could see through them to where Tarrlok stood, pressed just as closely to the wall as she. She waited with baited breath for his answer. A part of her wasn't sure what she was so worked up about. Chances were that she couldn't even know the guy, so the revelation really wouldn't have much impact…

But, she reasoned, knowing something about her opponent was better than knowing nothing at all. And she knew absolutely nothing about Amon beyond his claims. If Tarrlok could offer her insight, she'd take it.

Tarrlok didn't say anything for a while. She could hear him breathing slowly, but shakily on the other side of the wall. She started to wonder if he would say anything at all and she was just so frustrated with everything that she almost didn't hear him say: " _My brother_."

Korra felt like ice had settled under her skin at the whispered words. She could neither think nor breathe as the words sunk in.

 _"He's my brother."_

With a gasp, Korra jerked back and looked at the wall with wide eyes. She didn't even stop to think about what she was saying as she asked, " _You_ have a _brother?_ "

She heard Tarrlok's shuddering breath and then he sobbed. "I though he was dead." She'd never heard anyone in so much pain before.

"I'm sorry." She said it softly, sincerely, this time. "Can I… Can I ask how you know it's him? Did you see his face?"

Tarrlok choked a little. She realized he was trying to get a handle on his emotions. "It's the way he fights. He uses the same blood bending stance as my brother… he _is_ my brother."

Korra's eyes widened and mouth dropped open in complete and utter shock. It took her a moment to find her voice. "Amon…?" She stumbled back a little in her cell, staring at the wall, dumbfounded. "Amon is a _blood bender?_ " The idea was insane, surreal, entirely outlandish and impossible. "How can that be?"

And then Tarrlok told her everything. He spoke of Yakone, his father, and of the family that Yakone started in the north. He explained what life was like and how things had become unbearable after the brothers had shown a talent for bending.

Korra slowly dropped to the floor, but listened with rapt attention as he described the process of learning blood bending. She learned what Yakone had subjected his sons to and what horrible ideas he'd filled their heads with. She nearly stopped breathing when Tarrlok told her of how things had ended between the brothers—Noatak had disappeared into the blizzard, leaving Tarrlok alone with their parents.

When he was finished, the two sat in silence.

Light crept in from a small, narrow window in her cell illuminated her surroundings and Korra watched the shadows creep a short distance across the floor as she thought about everything she'd learned. The cell was bright when Korra spoke again. "So…" She gasped the word, her mouth felt dry. "Amon is Yakone's son." She swallowed the hard lump of fear stuck in her throat. It settled like lead in her stomach. "Your brother. A blood bender." She choked on the word.

"Yes."

She looked at the wall. He sounded so calm, but she could hear his anxiety and pain hidden just below the surface. He'd always been so calm, so cool, so collected and in control of everything. But she supposed that learning that his brother was Amon…

Come to think of it, it was only when she'd compared him to Amon that he'd become violent during their confrontation. Learning that he really was like Amon, that he really was related to that monster, must have been such a shock.

Unfortunately, she was all he had and he was all she had for the moment. And she had no idea what they were going to do to get out of here. He was the smart, cunning, ruthless one, and Amon was his brother. Surely he'd be able to figure this out. She scooted until she was cuddled against the wall. "What now?"

Tarrlok heaved a tired sigh. "I don't know."

Korra closed her eyes and let out a huff of frustration. Tarrlok was useless. Why was he being _so useless_? He _knew_ Amon. Amon was his jerk, blood bending brother. He could actually provide legitimate guidance in getting them out of this prison and help her _shut down the entire Equalist Movement_! Why hadn't he _realized_ he was so useful and could be the _stupid hero_ he wanted to be? All he had to do was pull himself together and come up with a big dumb plan. He was just sitting on his ass, waiting for Amon to come and finish them!

Korra drew another calming breath and realized that she suddenly knew why Tenzin seemed to be sighing all the time. But really, she wasn't that bad, was she? She was certainly better than the air bender kids and definitely better than Tarrlok.

Alright. This was on her. She had to steel her resolve and take initiative. If they didn't get out of here soon… well, who knew what Amon would do to them? She stood again and folded her arms, trying to look tough—not that anyone could see her, but it made her feel better.

"We have to get out of here." She glanced around the prison, looking for something she could use to fight Amon or any Equalist who came in to check on them.

The contents of the room had not changed since she'd last looked around. There was nothing that she could use.

 _Huh._

 _These jerks were pretty smart._

Tarrlok laughed a little again. It was another ugly, broken, humorless sound that was more a fluttering of the lungs in a desperate attempt at laughter than a real laugh. " _You_ need to get out of here. _You're_ the Avatar. He's sworn to destroy _you_."

Korra glared through the wall in the general direction of his voice. "What about you?"

She heard the sound of fabric rustling as he shifted a little. "I think he still has sentimental feelings for me." His discomfort was audible.

Korra turned away and looked at the floor. "You're his brother." But, she reminded herself, sometimes siblings weren't meant to get along—like her dad and uncle Unalaq. She knew Amon's policies were the polar opposite of Tarrlok's and she could use that to her advantage. She marched into the center of the room and puffed herself up. Then she spun and stared at the wall like a military commander preparing to rally her troops. "Do you want to stay here?" Her voice snapped like a whip.

Tarrlok's reply was immediate, but hardly strong. "No."

She'd have to work on that, but she couldn't bother building him up right now. She needed determination and resolve. "Do you believe in what your brother is doing?"

"Never." The answer was stronger this time. She could almost feel him uncoiling from his position against the wall.

She put her hands on her hips and gave the biggest, toughest smile she could manage under the circumstances. She knew he couldn't see it, but she hoped to the spirits that he could hear it. "You once said we make a good team. Get it together Tarrlok and we can work together to get out of here and take down the Equalists once and for all." She was trying to be inspiring. She wasn't sure if it was working…

"What's your plan?" He sounded a little more confident.

Korra gave a self-conscious laugh as she wandered closer to the wall. "I've got nothing. You?"

Tarrlok was silent for a moment. "I think this movement is everything to him. We could expose and discredit him…"

"I guess." Korra leaned back against the wall. "But how?"

"We'll come up with something." He paused for a moment as if in thought and then he said, "We'll have to act quickly. Who knows how long we have before they try to separate us. We'll know more when they bring food."

Korra blinked ins surprise. "Oh. You're right." She hadn't considered that their enemies would be coming by with food on occasion…

"They won't let us starve. That's not a public enough death for either of us." She ignored the comment about death and focused on the sound of Tarrlok's footfalls as he began to pace in his cell. It seemed as though her lame efforts had given him the hope and courage he needed to start thinking like a master strategist again… Good. One of them needed to do the thinking and Korra knew that her strength was in her limbs, not her head. Her teachers had drummed that fact into her ages ago.

"And there's your political significance." He continued. "You could play up the fact that you are being held against your will, abused by a madman. It would garner support and force the hands of the four nations."

Korra perked up a little at his words. "That could work." She could do that. She just had to start getting messages out of her cell to people who mattered. "Maybe dad could say something to my uncle? I'm sure that if they worked together then things would…" She trailed off and slapped her palm to her forehead and groaned. "But they _hate_ each other!" And the end result of that effort would be horrible and miserable. She'd _never_ leave the South Pole _ever_ again. At least captured by Amon meant that she wasn't in a _boring, icy compound_ in the _middle of nowhere_ where she _never_ saw or met _anyone_ interesting _at all, ever_.

Even with all the stressful stuff that had happened—encountering the terrifying Amon, the rush of fighting a revolution, her horrific encounter with Councilman Tarrlok—at least she hadn't locked up. Now, that wasn't to say that she didn't want to rush back to the South Pole and hide under her bed until the demons went away—she'd wanted to do that pretty frequently—but she also didn't want to spend the rest of her life locked away from the world. And getting her father involved practically guaranteed that she'd never see the outside world ever again.

She nearly fell into another pit of despair at the thought. She'd be trading one prison for another. There was no way out, was there?

Tarrlok's voice broke her out of her spiral. "So your uncle has political pull?" He sounded quite surprised—as though she'd said something of interest.

Korra wondered why he sounded so interested. She was Avatar Korra, daughter of Tonraq, niece to Chief Unalaq. Didn't everyone already know about that?

Maybe he'd just forgotten or he hadn't read whatever stupid newspaper had published her entire life's story? Or maybe no one in the Northern Courts had bothered to mention it?

… Or maybe it wasn't a big deal?

She was the Avatar, after all, and it wasn't like many people were particularly impressed by her. And when they said they were impressed, it was only because they were trying to flatter her. If no one was impressed about her being the Avatar, then being related to a chief probably wouldn't impact anyone or anything. Who cared about her relatives?

But maybe she'd tease him a little bit anyway…

She couldn't stop herself from chuckling as she said, "I guess you could say that my uncle has some political pull." She leaned back against the wall and put her hands behind her head. "I wonder what they're doing up North…"

"North?" Tarrlok sounded confused and curious. "I thought you were born in the Southern Water Tribe?"

"Well, yes, I was born in the South." She couldn't hide her pleasure at teasing him. She was starting to feel really smug about knowing something Tarrlok didn't. "But my uncle lives up North. I mean, he'd have to live up north, because-!"

She was interrupted by the sound of a large, heavy metal door swinging open. She was on her feet in an instant and ready to fight.

Amon strode in with a cadre of Equalists. "I see that you've been getting to know each other." His words were low and smooth, as always. "I'm afraid that social hour is over." He focused on Korra. She could just see the glint of those icy blue eyes in the shadow of his mask. "Collect the Avatar. She will be the centerpiece in our rally today." He took a step toward her cell as the Equalists rushed forward to open the cell and collect her.

Korra tried to put up a fight, but was quickly chi-blocked into submission. The Equalist soldiers then set to work trussing her up. Her hands were tied behind her back and her arms were bound tightly to her torso. Seven ropes were used in the binding, but six of the ropes that bound her only partially utilized, so that there were lengths of rope that extended off her bound form. Each of the six ends was taken up by an Equalist.

As soon as Korra could stand she began struggling, but every time she tried to pull one way or another, one or more of the Equalists would sharply yank her back into the center of the circle. There was nothing she could do. She was being wrangled like a dangerous animal.

Amon made a small gesture with his hand. Two Equalists stepped up to her, took her by the shoulders and brought her before Amon. She felt their hands pressing down on her, but she kept her legs strong. She wouldn't kneel before him again, not willingly.

Her efforts were futile. A few quick jabs along her back and she was on her knees before the Equalist leader. She glared up at him. He stared down at her, his mask hiding his face, as always.

"You'll be pleased to know, Avatar, that we've put together a little parade to celebrate our victory and to welcome you to our new world." His voice was so smooth, but it dripped with venom.

Korra snarled and struggled against the equalists who held her. "Let me go!"

Amon reached out a powerful hand and grabbed her ponytail, yanking it back hard. Korra yelped in pain as the Eqaulist leader twisted her hair sharply so that she was forced to look up at him. Korra closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. It hurt.

"Open your eyes Avatar."

She opened her eyes and glared balefully at him. She struggled against her restraints violently. "Let me go!" she snarled again.

Amon tilted his head to one side, as though thoughtfully studying her. Then he said, "No." And with that he released her and turned to lead the way out of her cell.

The equalists who had been given charge of Korra, forced her to her feet. They pulled at her, leading her like an enraged bull boar who'd been readied for slaughter. Korra struggled against them, unwilling to let herself go along with any of Amon's plans without a fight.

As she was led from her cell, she twisted sharply and saw Tarrlok staring at her through the bars. He looked awful. But there was a look of knowing fear in his eyes that tied her stomach in knots.

 _He knew what Amon was going to do with her. And he knew it wasn't going to be good._

Her eyes widened in animalistic fear and her breathing quickened. "Please!" she shouted.

It was enough to spur Tarrlok into action, "Amon!" he shouted. "Don't do this!"

Amon turned and looked at Tarrlok from where he stood by the door to the cell block. "Ah, Councilman Tarrlok. What a surprise, coming to the defense of the young woman you intended to take as a hostage…" He approached the ex-politician's cell. "Amazing how quickly your alliance changes."

Tarrlok flinched at Amon's none-too-subtle call out to the councilman's hypocrisy, but he didn't back down. Tarrlok cast a quick glance at Korra. It was as though he were checking to make sure that she was listening.

Korra saw the politician's eyes narrow in contempt, before she was yanked back around the other way. But she did hear what he said to Amon:

 _"I guess being a liar and a coward is just in my blood."_

Korra's breath hitched sharply at his words. She'd nearly forgotten everything Tarrlok had just told her. The dig was subtle and particularly cruel, but it was an important reminder that she had something on Amon and she could use it to her advantage.

She only barely heard the soft slide of Amon's booted heel over the floor and the creak of leather as clenched his fist. She felt the change in the atmosphere. Tarrlok had gotten under Amon's skin. And the equalist leader was furious, but he said nothing in reply to his brother's cruel words.

"Enough." Amon's voice cut through the silence like a knife. "We have preparations to make."

During the exchange Korra had stopped struggling and stood still and silent. She watched out of the corner of her eye as Amon walked passed her to take the lead again. She shied away from him as he strode by.

The equalist in front of her yanked hard on its rope. Korra planted her feet and leaned back hard, she knew she'd have to go with them, but she wasn't going to make it easy. She waited a moment and then twisted sharply to the left and then sharply to the right. The equalists stumbled. She turned back to look at Tarrlok.

"I'll get us out of here, I promise!" she shouted. It was more for her benefit than his. After all, she was the one the equalists were leading off to who knows where for who knows what. Tarrlok was going to stay right here, where he'd be safe and sound…

 _Some jerks had all the luck._

One of the equalists holding onto the ropes gave a hard, sharp tug. Korra wasn't ready for it and she tumbled to the ground. Her head lightly bumped against the concrete. She winced.

The equalists who held the ropes began tugging on her harshly, trying to force her to get up without touching her. She shifted on the ground trying to push herself up from floor without the use of her bound arms. And she had to do it while her torso was being pulled in six different directions by a bunch of chi-blockers.

As she rolled and carefully moved to get up one of the equalists stepped over to her and kicked her soundly in the side, sending her sprawling again. "Up." He said harshly.

Korra twisted around and snapped at him, "I'm trying, alright! I can't get up if you're all pulling me in every other direction and kicking me!"

"Let the Avatar get up without assistance."

At Amon's words the incessant pulling stopped. Korra rose to her feet slowly, just to spite them. Once she was on her feet they starting yanking on the ropes again, pulling her along like an ornery beast.

 _Well, if they were going to treat her like an animal, she was going to act like one!_

Korra struggled and fought every step of the way, unwilling to give her captors an easy time of this. She was going to make them fight. Her efforts, however, didn't change the fact that she was being slowly dragged from the room.

As she stumbled through the threshold, Tarrlok shouted, "Avatar Korra!"

Korra twisted sharply to cast one last look over her shoulder to look at the broken man in the cell. Amon's brother, Tarrlok, stared at her with an expression of pained resignation.

He gave her a weak, shaky smile. "Stay strong."

She returned his uncertain smile with a broad grin of her own. She knew that her smile reflected far more confidence than she actually felt, but it was the least she could do.

The equalists in front of her pulled on their ropes. The ones behind, came up to push her. She was dragged through the door and Tarrlok vanished from sight.

[] [] [] END CHAPTER 1 [] [] []

And One More Thing: _**AMON A WINNING STREAK.**_


	2. Victory

**Part 1: Intrigue  
Act 1: Triumph of Equality  
Chapter 2: Victory**

 **A/N:** _Because armies pulled this kind of shit ALL the time /OR/ Amon celebrates while he still can…_

 _ **Trigger Warning: Public Humiliation/Public Shaming, General Humiliation, Cruel Intentions**_ ** _  
_**

The equalists led Korra down a series of long, dark hallways and through spacious underground rooms, to a large platform. Upon their arrival, Amon came to life. He ordered equalists around, checked preparations, and set about positioned people on the platform.

He was very specific and exacting in his demands. He wanted each equalist to stand in a very precise spot and in a very particular way. The mustached guy—his lieutenant—scurried around, making sure that everyone was following orders.

Korra and her handlers were among the last to be placed on the platform. She was positioned beside Amon near the front of the stage—he said it was a 'a place of honor for their guest of honor.' Korra was less than thrilled to stand so close to the equalist leader, even if there was at least six feet between them.

Her handlers were just as unhappy with her position. They felt that she had no right to stand so close to the great and powerful Amon. More than one of them expressed the fear that she'd try to strike down their leader down in front of everyone.

The young Avatar had scoffed at that. How was she going to hurt Amon when she was tied up and surrounded by equalists? If anything, he was going to hurt her.

 _Actually, she was absolutely certain that he was going to hurt her._

Amon, however, was appreciative of his minion's concern and ordered his mustached lieutenant to stand behind her and hold her firmly by the back of her neck to keep her from running amok. The lieutenant immediately and briskly grabbed the young Avatar and lifted her onto her toes.

Korra grimaced in discomfort, but she kept her mouth shut. She didn't want to say anything to anyone at this point. She didn't want Amon's attention on her.

Once Amon was satisfied with where everyone was standing, he gave a practiced gesture to a group of chi-blockers who were operating a control panel. The chi-blockers pulled some levers and pushed some buttons and the platform began to rise. When it finally stopped, Amon, his compatriots, and the unwilling Avatar were standing front and center before a massive crowd of non-benders.

Korra looked out across the assembly and the assembly stared back at her attentively. The young Avatar's eyes grew wide, her mouth fell open in surprise, and her shoulders hunched a little in a protective gesture, but it did little to defend her from the collective gaze of the non-benders. With her arms bound tightly to her sides and her wrists tied behind her back, there was no way to cower or hide from the crowd. She was exposed.

She felt her eyes begin to tear up as she realized that she was the main attraction. These people were here to bear witness to her humiliation by Amon and his followers.

 _They hated her._

She flinched back and tried to shrink further into herself, but she couldn't, not with the mustached man's hand clamped down on the back of her neck. The way he was holding her up—so that her back arched uncomfortably and her chest jutted out—meant that curling up was impossible. Just bringing her shoulders forward was almost painfully difficult. Her chest tightened and a lump formed in her throat as she stood unsteadily on her toes, vulnerable and exposed. Her mind spun as her eyes darted around the assembly hall…

 _All these people had come to see her downfall. They'd come to mock her, to laugh at her, and to bear witness to the end of Korra, the Great Failure._

A part of her couldn't believe that this was really happening to her. But somewhere deep down, Korra felt that this outcome was inevitable. After all, she's failed as an Avatar. Republic City had fallen to Amon and she'd let it happen.

Tarrlok's cold words echoed in her head

 _Half-baked Avatar…_

Korra closed her eyes tightly to keep her tears from falling. She tried to turn her head away, but the lieutenant's grip on her neck tightened painfully. His fingers dug into the flesh and muscle around her spine making her whimper in pain. She wouldn't be allowed to hide from her humiliation. Her insides twisted with shame and horror at what she now knew was coming.

Korra flinched at the sound of a microphone adjusting. Amon, she realized, was getting ready to speak. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He was standing to her right, at center stage, looking out at the crowd through the knife-shaped eye-holes in his mask.

"My fellow equalists," Amon began, his voice echoed strangely across the space—probably the result of whatever sound equipment he was using, " _this_ is a glorious day!" He lifted a fist toward the sky. "We have captured the Avatar!" he shouted.

The crowd let out a howl of triumph and the lieutenant lifted Korra slightly, like she was a celebrated trophy. She winced and gagged as his grip shifted on the back of her neck. The way he was holding her made it hard for her to breathe.

Amon waited for the din to die down before he shouted out the next triumph he wanted them to celebrate: "We have captured Republic City!"

The audience roared jubilantly in response and Korra felt a stray tear slip from between her lashes.

Again, Amon waited for his followers to settle before he announcing the next 'triumph.' "Our enemies—our _oppressors_ —have been made to kneel before us!"

The crowd thundered its approval. Korra struggled to breathe as the lieutenant adjusted his grip to squeeze along the sides of her neck, choking her. She kept her eyes focused on Amon.

 _She wanted him to know that she was watching him._

"Those benders who have not been captured have fled before our forces like cowards! Today, WE STAND TRIUMPHANT!" Amon flung his arms wide as if to embrace his audience.

The audience went wild, undulating like a stormy sea. People screamed out Amon's name, howled jeers and slurs against benders, or simply cried out with vicious joy.

Amon let them celebrate, he waited for them to finish their expressions of adulation, before he continued his speech:

"My brothers and sisters," the equalist leader began again, his voice full of feverish fervor, " _this_ is the first day of a new world! Today, Republic City! Tomorrow the United Republic! Soon, the entire world _will… be…_ _ **Equalized**_!"

The crowd roared its approval again and Amon stood before them, arms open, face out and upward, like a flower turning its face to the sun. Something in the back of Korra's mind clicked and she blinked, her eyes widened in mild surprise.

 _He fed off this._

He fed off the adulation and praise. Every cry of agreement and approval nourished his passion and his ego. If there was no one here to agree with him, would he still be standing here on the stage, shouting into a microphone? If there was no one to praise him and worship him, would he still be crying for revolution.

"We will put an end to the tyranny of benders once and for all!"

Korra felt light-headed. It might have been the lieutenant's grip on her neck, blocking the flow of blood to her head, or the pain in her chest from being held in a back-bend for a prolonged time that was making it difficult for her to breathe, but she suspected that it was more due to the shameful realization that she'd been brought down not by a man who was protected by the spirits, but by an egomaniac who hid behind a mask. This was a man whose power and authority was granted to him by a crowd of malcontents whose plight and suffering was probably not of any real interest to him.

"Today, brothers and sisters, we will celebrate our recent victories."

And now, even from where she barely stood—held aloft by his lieutenant—Korra couldn't help but feel that Amon was a small man.

A small, cruel, selfish man with small, cruel, selfish ambitions who was only made great by the power of his rage and a microphone.

"Today, I will present you with one of our greatest accomplishments!"

Korra wondered, as her vision grew black and hazy, why hadn't she seen all this before? If she'd known how small he really was, she'd have taken his real power away from him sooner…

"Behold!"

Korra was thrust forward on the stage, she stumbled over her own feet and fell forward onto her knees with a yelp. She looked down at the stage before her and gasped in pain and pleasure as blood was finally allowed to rush into her skull. Her eyes watered and tears coursed down her cheeks as she drew in several deep breathes as her chest muscles and lungs relaxed from the hyper-extended, hyper-expanded state.

Amon must have walked across the stage to where she knelt while she recovered herself, because his hand grabbed her wolf's tail and yanked her head back firmly. She gritted her teeth in pain as her back arched and she looked up at his masked visage. The way he was forcing her to bend, pulled chest and lungs right back into the painful hyper-extended state they'd been in previously.

She glared at him as hard as she could and wished that he'd die.

"The Avatar can no longer bend!" Amon announced, "She has been defeated and purified!"

The assembly hall reverberated with the sound of equalists cheering. Korra forcibly tilted her head down in shame and closed her eyes, struggling to fight off her tears again. She could feel the crowd's eyes on her, she could feel all their anger and their hatred for her directed at her, like the crushing weight of a snow bank tumbling down on her.

 _Why?_

 _Why did they hate her?_

 _What had she ever done to them?_

 _What had she ever done to deserve this?_

 _…_

 _…nothing…_

 _She'd done nothing to deserve this treatment._

 _She'd been a bender. She'd been the Avatar. She'd tried to help people in Republic City._

 _And now they were attacking her._

Anger bubbled in the pit of her stomach and rose into throat. A bitter taste filled her mouth as her face contorted into a mask of rage. She drew in a sharp deep breath as righteous fury took hold of her.

 _If these people had ever been oppressed, they weren't oppressed anymore._

 _Now, they were oppressing benders… oppressing her._

 _Didn't they realize that they'd become the very monsters they claimed to hate?_

She straightened quickly, twisting as she did so, so that she could look Amon straight in the eye and she shouted as loudly as she could manage, _"THIS ISN'T OVER!"_

The crowd, which had been screaming and undulating with elation fell silent. Amon released her hair and stepped quickly away from her. He looked down on her with a strange expression in his eyes, as if he were surprised or even frightened by her outburst. Korra quickly took the opportunity to rise again to her feet. She glared at him with all the hatred she could muster.

"This isn't over Amon!" She said it again, just to be sure that everyone heard her say it. She didn't know what else she was going to say, but she'd run with it and hope for the best.

She lunged toward Amon threateningly. The equalists who held the ends of the ropes that bound her tugged and yanked, causing her to stumble, but she struggled to keep her footing. There was nothing she could do to fight him. Her arms were tied down, her bending was gone, if she tried to kick him his equalists would probably yank her out of the air, but she'd settle for just biting him really hard if she could get close enough.

She felt a pair of strong hands grab her shoulders—the lieutenant was behind her, ready to subdue her. She could feel how tense he was, but he didn't do anything to stop her. He just held her firmly, ready to act if necessary.

She watched as Amon regained his composure, he made a gesture and the lieutenant released her. The equalist leader folded his hands behind his back and looked down on her with amusement that his mask only barely hid. "Oh? And what are you going to do about it?" he asked. "You don't have your precious bending to fight us. Your allies have scattered. You are nothing!"

Korra withered a little at his words. He was right. What did she have left? She couldn't bend at all…

 _But…_

 _None of his equalists could bend either… and look what they'd achieved!_

Korra shook her head sharply and dug in her heels as she felt a particularly sharp tug on the ropes, "Yeah, you're right! I'm just a non-bender now, just like everyone else here!" She jerked her head toward the crowd sharply, "That's not nothing, is it Amon? Or maybe you look down on your followers just as much as you look down on benders?"

The crowd murmured in surprise at her words. She heard several people jeer at her comments. But Amon tensed a little and she could just see his eyes narrowing behind his mask.

 _Gotcha!_

She wasn't quite sure what she'd said that had gotten to him, but she'd found a chink in his armor. And she was going to exploit it!

"Don't try to twist my words, Avatar!" Amon turned to address the crowd. "How typical of a bender to lie!"

The crowd let out cries of agreement, cheering Amon on, but not everyone was cheering anymore. Some equalists were quietly listening to the exchange. She hadn't won over everyone, but she had the ear of at least a few people!

Korra felt emboldened. "I'm not the one who twists words, Amon! I'm not a liar!" One of the equalists holding her back yanked hard and she lunged toward Amon again to compensate. The lieutenant's grip tightened. "Didn't I just admit that I can't bend anymore!? I've got nothing left to lose and it's not like I've got anything to hide either!"

The idea hit her like a speeding satomobile. She could expose him right here, right now, in front of all his followers. She grinned broadly.

Amon tutted. "What? This from the girl who claimed that non-benders were oppressing themselves?"

The crowd booed loudly at the reminder of what she'd said four months ago. A whiny, unpleasant, but familiar voice rang out from somewhere near the front of the crowd: "Evil Avatar! Evil Avatar! Evil Avatar!"

Korra could almost see Amon's grin under his mask. She closed her eyes and did as Tenzin had taught her after that disastrous press conference with Tarrlok. She focused on calming down, relaxing, and putting her thoughts in order. She needed to say what she meant to say, nothing more and nothing less.

When she opened her eyes, she was ready. "I made mistakes!" she said loudly, then she turned to address the assembled crowd, "Doesn't everyone make mistakes? Even Aang made mistakes! Am I not allowed to make mistakes just because I'm the Avatar!?" She turned back to Amon and looked at him sternly. "But what you're doing _isn't_ just a mistake! You're doing this on purpose! You're _lying_ to everyone!"

Amon tilted his head back and stared her down. "Tell me, Avatar, what have I lied about?" he asked, his voice full of patronizing false-sweetness.

She hesitated. Amon looked and sounded smug. He probably had a defense lined up already… but how?! How could he possibly know…?

Well, what other choice did she have? If she stopped now, she'd look like an idiot. She had to do this.

"Your family wasn't killed by a fire bender and you," she swallowed sharply before she continued, "you're not what you say you are. You're a liar and a fraud!" Saying it out loud felt good. She was starting to feel like she was in control again. "I know how you take bending away and it has nothing to do with spirits! You say that you're the new Avatar, but that's just another one of your lies!" She drew herself up and said, "If any one of these equalists really knew the truth about you they'd…" she tried to imagine what they'd do to him.

 _What would they do to him?_

"They'd take you down!" she shouted.

 _They'd all be furious and they'd all come at him with their chi-blocking and their Sato-weapons…_

"They'd string you up!"

 _She tried to imagine it, but realized that she couldn't…_

"They'd treat you just like you're treating me!"

 _When she'd faced Tarrlok, she'd had her bending, and she'd proven strong, but as soon as he pulled out the blood bending, she'd been helpless._

"They'd…" _He was a psychic blood bender who could bend with his mind. She was an Avatar and she'd been taken down by Tarrlok and Tarrlok claimed that he was nowhere near as strong as Amon._ "…they'd kill you…"

What had master Katara taught her about blood benders?

 _The only way to defeat a blood bender…_

"O… or they'd try…"

 _…was with a stronger water bender…_

Korra's blinked, her eyes darted around the assembly hall. It was like she was seeing it for the first time, "… there's no more benders in the city…" she breathed the words with horrified reverence, her stomach clenched in fear. "… I… I can't stop you…" she couldn't bend anymore. _He was removing everyone's bending._ "There aren't any more benders in the city. There's no way a chi-blocker could ever stand up to you…"

The air left her lungs as the full weight of the situation hit her.

 _All these people were being led by a blood bender powerful enough that he could bend with his mind. Their leader could kill them with a thought and none of them knew it. Once all the benders were removed from Republic City and the United Republic, no one would be able to oppose or stop him. He'd be invincible._

 _Amon would rule a population that could never hope stand against him. There could be no rebellion or uprising. There could be no resistance. Korra knew what a blood bender could do to someone and Amon could destroy any enemy with nothing more than a look. No one would know or understand how he did it, but it'd be nothing to him._

 _Amon was going to be a powerful, terrible tyrant. One whose rule of the United Republic would go unchallenged. And the equalists had invited him to be their leader, their king._

 _If they thought benders had been terrible oppressors… they hadn't seen anything yet…_

Korra felt the blood drain from her face. "You monster," she breathed. Her body shook like a leaf in a storm.

Amon chuckled. "Care to share your theories, Avatar?"

"Blood bender."

She felt the lieutenant's grip on her shoulders tighten painfully at her softly whispered accusation.

 _The mustached man had heard her._

Amon laughed loudly. "How ridiculous! You have no evidence whatsoever! This is just another baseless claim!" He turned to the crowd. "You see, like all benders, the Avatar is nothing more than a liar!"

Korra closed her eyes and shook her head. She could feel the heat of tears threatening to spill forth. She looked up at Amon. He stood at center stage, basking in the adulation. A blood bender who delighted in glory and would lie to the world, simply to enjoy the approval of others… and he was going to use all that love and devotion to take advantage of everyone.

 _He was going to hurt hundreds of thousands of people, just for the high of being adored..._

Korra lost control of her temper.

"What do you want me to say?" She snarled. "Do you want me to spell out your entire, horrible backstory to a room full of people you could kill with a look!? To invite a murderous blood bath? Oh no, your brother told me enough about you!" A part of her knew that she should stop, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. There was a fire in her belly that demanded she say it. "You wouldn't hesitate to use your abilities on helpless animals, you haven't hesitated to use them on benders, and I seriously doubt that you'd think twice before hurting one of your followers!"

The lieutenant's hand came up to her neck and squeezed. "Enough!" he growled.

Korra jerked out of his grip and shouted, "No!" She lunged toward Amon again, breaking free of the lieutenant. She could feel the equalists straining to hold her back. But she wasn't done yet. "I'm not done making 'baseless claims!'" she sneered.

"But speaking of _baseless claims_ , how do _yours_ stand up, huh?" she shouted. "I never once lied about a single thing! Maybe I didn't know anything when I came to this city, but I was always upfront and honest! You, though… tell me, has anyone ever actually seen your real face? Does anyone recognize you? Can they vouch for you and your story?

"I'm sure they all know you're not from Republic City—you didn't grow up here! Everyone's been more than happy to take you at your word about what happened to your family! I'm sure you're more than happy to let them follow you around blindly!"

With every word her voice grew louder, but she made no effort to reign herself in. The crowd began to shout and jeer at her. They were becoming agitated by her accusations against their leader. She wasn't going to back down.

"But _I_ KNOW!" she shouted the words at the top of her lungs to be heard over the noise of the crowd. They fell silent again.

"I know that if anyone did even a little digging into your life and background they'd find out a whole lot more than you ever let on! What do you think your followers will do when they start to realize what kind of man you really are?! When they find out who your father really was?!" Her voice was getting horse from shouting. "I'm sure that a lot of families in this crowd are still angry about what he did all those years ago!"

Amon's eyes narrowed sharply behind his mask. "That's enough, Avatar. Your petty accusations have provided some amusement, but I think we've all heard enough…" he turned away to address the crowd.

Korra wasn't done yet, though, "What happens when _they_ find out, _Noatak?_ How many people will you be _willing to kill_ to keep your _filthy family secret!?_ _You're a monster who didn't even think twice when your father ordered you to hurt your own brother!_ "

It was like all the air had been sucked out of the assembly hall.

Amon's entire body went ramrod straight. His fingers curled into fists. He turned to look at her over his shoulder. She could see his eyes behind the mask—the icy blue disks caught the light, and she could see that his pupils had been reduced to pinpricks.

In that moment, Korra found herself facing Amon. Not the small, pitiful, angry man who fed on the adulation of others that she'd seen earlier, but the hateful, malevolent blood bender who loathed the thought of her existence and whose incendiary rage overshadowed every other aspect of his being. Her mouth snapped closed. She'd crossed a line and now she feared that she was going to pay for it.

 _Oh spirits, what was he going to do to her?_

Amon drew in a deep, slow breath. Korra could practically see his muscles uncoiling. He tilted his chin upward to better look down on her. "Pathetic."

Korra drew a sharp breath. She'd been sure that he was going to kill her for what she'd just said to him, but he'd shown restraint. Nevertheless, her words would have a price. Amon would find a way to get his revenge.

"Gag her."

Korra saw an equalist step forward holding a bizarre contraption made of metal and leather. She didn't understand what it was or what they were going to do, until the equalist was forcing the metal bit into her mouth and binding the leather straps around the back of her head. She struggled and fought, twisting around and trying to spit it out, until the lieutenant grabbed her hair and held her still.

The equalist fastened the gag around her head. Korra bit down into metal and fought the urge to scream in anguish. The metal bit in her mouth rubbed against her lips and the leather straps chafed against her skin.

 _They put a muzzle on her as if she were some kind of dog…_

The lieutenant grabbed the ropes that bound Korra and pushed her forward. Once she was near the front of the stage, he grabbed her wolf's tail and yanked back so that her newest accessory, the gag, was on display for the audience. She closed her eyes tightly as the spectators jeered. A stray tear escaped the corner of her eye.

She was completely humiliated.

"Behold the Avatar: a powerful, vile bender finally put in her rightful place!" Amon shouted "Bound and muzzled like the violent animal that she is!"

Korra opened her eyes and glanced at Amon.

 _So, this was what the Equalists called the 'rightful place of benders.'_

Korra looked out at the cheering crowd.

 _This had nothing to do with equality._

"As for my face…"

Korra's eyes widened as she saw Amon reach up to push back his hood. She watched as he unfastened the leather straps that kept that horrible mask on his face. Her breathing quickened, the air whistled as it slipped out around the metal bit in her mouth.

He gently removed the mask from his face and looked out at the audience, revealing a fire-scarred visage. The assembly gasped and murmured at the sight of it. Korra tensed in shock.

" _This_ is what a _fire bender_ did to me!"

 _It couldn't be! Tarrlok had said that-!_

 _… but then Tarrlok hadn't seen his brother in over twenty years. Anything could have happened in that time…_

Amon stepped forward to the front of the stage. "The Avatar is lying! She is lying to undercut our world, our vision!"

Korra turned her gaze to look out at the audience. They cheered for Amon. They called him their savior, their glorious leader. This man, who wasn't interested in saving anyone was 'glorious'…

She felt sick.

And they were all so desperate to believe everything that he said that they couldn't see what he was turning them into…

 _Fine,_ she thought

 _Fine, go ahead and lie, Amon. I can't stop people from believing you…_

 _… but I have some questions for you: What did you do to the fire bender when you retaliated? And what are you going to do to me—to all those benders you've 'equalized'—even after we've done nothing to hurt you?_

Her eyes slipped closed and she shivered in fear.

 _What will happen to me, when he's done parading me around? What are is he going to do to me? I can't fight him… I'm helpless… I have no means of defending myself anymore…_

She opened her eyes and looked out at the crowd again. She took in their triumphant expressions at the victory they perceived…

 _No one in this city has anyone left to protect them from you…_

"However, I am certain that even the Avatar can assist our cause!"

Korra stiffened at his words. What did he mean by that? She turned her head sharply to look at him. The lieutenant yanked hard on her hair, but she ignored him.

 _What did he mean by that?_

 _Didn't he know she'd rather die than help him hurt people?_

"She will remain in our care indefinitely."

Korra felt like she'd just taken a blow to the gut.

 _What?!_

"The Avatar will remain in the hands of the Equalist Movement indefinitely. She will be our hostage, a means of assuring the cooperation of the Four Nations."

 _No._

"She will learn to submit to the new world order and will assist us in forcing the other nations to acknowledge us and our cause!"

 _No!_

The crowd went wild, cheering and howling in exaltation, but Korra felt like her knees were about to collapse out from under her.

She was going to stay with Amon and the Equalists forever? As a prisoner? As a hostage? As leverage to push their agenda to every nation in the world? She was going to be hostage of an evil blood bender for the rest of her life?

 _NO!_ She tried to shout, to scream, but all her cries of anguish were stifled by the gag.

 _This couldn't be happening._

 _"The Avatar is nothing!"_ Amon shouted over his frenzied audience.

Korra shook her head sharply in disbelief.

 _This couldn't be real._

But Amon kept talking: _"Her bending is gone! Her status is meaningless!"_

 _This was a nightmare._

 _"I am your new Avatar!"_

Korra hadn't thought that the crowd could get any louder, but at his words they roared. The sound reverberated throughout the auditorium and she swore that she could feel the vibrations in her bones. The cheering drowned out the sound of everything else.

And it hurt—not the sound, but he painful crushing feeling in her chest. It was like when she'd seen Mako and Asami together for the first time and she'd felt like something inside of her cracked, but it was ten thousand times worse.

 _The people had chosen him over her._

She was hurt and terrified, but she was concerned for their safety. She cared about them, but apparently she was such a horrible failure of an Avatar that even a madman— _any madman_ —was considered a better than her!

She looked down and turned away, gritting her teeth. It wasn't fair. She hadn't even been given a chance to prove herself. She'd only just gotten started. Given time, maybe she could have… would have…!

…but all those 'could haves' and 'would haves' didn't matter anymore.

 _She was out of time. And because she wasn't strong enough, because she wasn't good enough, everyone was going to suffer._

There were no more water benders in Republic City. There was no one remotely strong enough to overcome Amon's blood bending. No one would be able to oppose Amon.

Not now.

Not ever.

 _This was all her fault._

A hand pressed into her shoulder. She flinched and glanced behind her. Amon's mustached lieutenant glared at her through his green goggles and said, "March."

Korra found herself pushed across the stage toward a small flight of stairs that led into the midst of the crowd. The equalists holding her ropes had already begun moving around her to pull her along, but there was really no need. She wasn't going to fight them this time.

She began to make her way down the stairs as gracefully as she could manage. However, one of the equalists holding an end of her rope was determined to keep her on her toes. She wasn't sure which one did it, but it was one of the equalists ahead of her—they yanked hard on the rope. She stumbled and nearly tumbled head over heels down the steps, but a strong hand grabbed her shoulder, even as a warm kali stick pressed into her back.

It was a clear threat.

Korra stilled and waited. After a moment, the lieutenant relaxed and let her continue walking. As she walked she glanced around. Amon was already at the bottom of the stairs. He'd put his mask back on at some point, she hadn't seen when, but he was silently staring up at her through the knife-shaped eye holes of that horrible mask. She returned his steady gaze with a glare of her own.

She made her way down the rest of the steps with as much dignity as she could muster. Once she was on the ground she fell into step several paces behind him with three equalists in front of her and three behind, each with a rope in hand. If she moved too quickly, the equalists with the ropes behind her would pull to slow her down. If she was too slow, the ones leading her would start to pull her along.

There was no hope of a desperate escape attempt. She couldn't try to rush into the crowd to disappear with six equalists holding onto her. There was no way she could ever hope to fight her way out of this situation.

But…

She had one last trick she could try.

Amon didn't know where she'd lived for thirteen years. There was no way he'd ever think to build walls as thick or strong as those the White Lotus had erected around her. In all her escape attempts from the South Pole, she'd learned that the highest rate of success occurred when your protectors—or, in this case, captors—didn't think you'd try to escape.

She just had to bide her time and wait for him to develop a false sense of security. Once he thought she'd given up, opportunities would begin to present themselves. After all, inevitably someone would get lazy, and when that happened, she'd be free.

It was just a matter of time.

She just had to be patient.

Korra was abruptly pulled from her musings when something hit her in the face with a wet smack. She stumbled and stopped dead in her tracks. The wet thing slid slowly off her face and fell to the ground. She glanced down to see a putrid, rotten orange-y brown fruit on the splatted on the floor in front of her.

She was nearly pulled off her feet when the equalists in front of her yanked her forward. She stumbled along without any fuss.

She was shocked.

Someone had thrown garbage at her.

 _Why?_

Something whizzed in front of her face. She froze again and looked to see another piece of rotten garbage.

 _That was meant for me…_

 _They're throwing garbage at me…_

A hard, solid shaft dug into her side. Korra screamed as electricity tore through her body. It was just enough to hurt, but not enough to knock her out.

"Keep marching, girl." The lieutenant swung his kali stick to strike her sharply in the side.

Korra let out a muffled cry as the baton connected. She swallowed down the tears of pain and humiliation as started forward again, determined not to stop for anything. But as she made her way forward, more garbage and trash was flung at her by the assembled equalists.

She knew that she couldn't stop unless she wanted to be shocked again. So she ducked her head and closed her eyes tightly to shield her face from the disgusting projectiles. She knew from the steady sound of squishy objects hitting the ground, that much of the trash flung at her missed its mark. She only wished that every equalist had terrible aim.

A rain of tiny pellets that smelled like ash and dirt landed in her hair. Something large, hard, wet, and smelly slammed into her jaw at one point, nearly knocking her off her feet. Rotten fruit connected with a sickening squish and tangled into her hair, face, and clothes. Crumpled up paper hit its mark and lightly fell away, but at least a few equalists got a bit more creative and bundled small stones into the paper-wads so that they had an impact when they hit.

Through it all, Korra struggled not to cry.

She didn't want anyone to see how much this hurt her. She didn't want them to know that she was suffering. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

Nevertheless, she couldn't stop the thoughts spinning around in her head:

 _She was nothing._

 _She was worthless._

 _Everyone hated her._

 _No one wanted her around._

 _She was the worst Avatar ever._

 _Everyone knew that she was awful._

 _She was a failure._

 _This was all her fault_

 _She deserved this._

She had never felt so horrible in her entire life.

She almost didn't notice when they arrived at the new location. But when she noted that she her captors weren't pushing and pulling her along the chosen route, she looked up.

She was in a large plaza she'd never seen before, in front of a large platform. In the middle of the platform were four large poles. Three of the poles were occupied. The Republic City councilors looked out at the assembled crowd with wide, frightened eyes.

Suddenly Korra knew that the pole in the middle, next to the fire bender councilwoman, was meant for her. She was led up onto the platform and tied to the pole. She kept her head down as several equalists got up to give short speeches about how they'd been looking forward to this day for their entire lives.

And then the crowd was invited to show Republic City's leaders what they _really_ thought of them. The audience wasn't allowed to approach the poles, but they could share their opinion by flinging garbage at them… but no rocks, "We're not _benders_ , after all!" the equalist joked, even as the first few rotten vegetables were flung at the four on the platform.

A rotten fruit connected with the face of the female council woman and she let out a wail of horror. Korra, however, was no longer affected by the assault of refuse. She kept her head down, her mouth shut, and her eyes closed.

But as Korra stood, bound to the pole, listening to the heavy, ugly sobs of the councilwoman to her left and the angry shouting of the elderly councilman on her right, she felt a deep, angry bitterness well up within her. She dug her teeth into the metal bit and squeezed her eyelids resolutely.

 _Alright._

 _Fine._

If they didn't want her to be the Avatar, then she wouldn't be the Avatar. Amon could be the Avatar. She'd escape and she'd go somewhere else where there were no people, maybe she'd hide away in some distant part of the Earth Kingdom, or she'd find a deserted island out at sea… she'd just leave and go where there were no people. And Republic City could deal with Amon on their own.

If they wanted to be ruled by a cruel, tyrannical blood bender… well, that was their choice. They'd have to live with it. She'd be gone and she'd never, ever come back.

 _She never wanted to see this place again._

 _And she wouldn't!_

 _And then everything would be just… just… fine!_

But…

A hot tear burned a path down her cheek, followed by another and then another.

She'd _tried_ , hadn't she?

Maybe everyone had been right, maybe she hadn't been ready, but she'd tried. She'd been the Avatar her entire life and no one had let her actually BE the Avatar. She'd never known anything else. It was all she had and now…

Now it was gone.

She'd lost and it was all gone forever.

 _She really was the worst Avatar ever, wasn't she?_

[] [] []

Amon stood in front of a window on the fourth floor of a stately building on the opposite end of the square, watching the humiliation of the Avatar and the Republic City councilors. Behind him, the members of his inner circle discussed strategies for coordinating and training equalists to operate Future Industry's latest anti-bender weaponry. The selection process for suitable operators and pilots was already well far as everyone in the room was concerned, their leader was currently pleased with the outcome of their efforts. When Amon caught his own reflection in the translucent window pane, even he was momentarily fooled by his outward appearance of calm, collected, confidence. In truth, Amon was deeply revolution was off schedule.

Nothing was going according to plan.

And it was his fault.

Over the course of several years Amon had carefully drawn up meticulous plans around the equalist revolution. These plans would lead the revolution to an optimal outcome and ensure the survival and spread of equalism to every corner of the world. However, there had been several recent changes and the revolutionaries had gone 'off script' frequently in the past six months. And every one of those divergences from the plan risked the success of the venture.

It would take him several months to account for the impact of these changes, rework the plans, and put new continuities in place, but at this point there was no time. He knew that in a matter of weeks or even days the United Forces would be bearing down on them. International pressure would mount as the four nations recognized the threat that equalism presented…

At this point Amon was gambling with the lives of every person in Republic City. Fortunately, he felt almost certain that the stakes were low. After all, it was extremely unlikely that the United Forces would mount a full scale assault on the city. This was a hostage situation, the world would aim to remove Amon and his equalist without doing too much harm to the city or its citizens. And as long as the world was unwilling to demolish Republic City, the success of the revolution was almost guaranteed.

Unfortunately, the humiliation of the Avatar had compromised the plan. He'd known that as long as her mouth wasn't gagged, she'd say something stupid. He'd been counting on it, but of all the things she could have said…

 _"I'm just a non-bender now, just like everyone else here!_ _That's not nothing, is it Amon? Or maybe you look down on your followers just as much as you look down on benders?"_

 _"Has anyone ever actually seen your real face? Does anyone recognize you? Can they vouch for you and your story?"_

 _"You're a monster who didn't even think twice when your father ordered you to hurt your own brother!_ "

He flinched, his eyes snapped shut, he turned sharply away from the window. His hand gripped his wrist to keep himself from slamming his fist through the glass in front of him.

Of all the things to say to him…

He looked back out the window, his eyes focused on where the Avatar stood, tied to a pole, her head hung in what appeared to be resignation. But he wasn't convinced. She was simply trying to protect her face from the garbage that was being flung at her by the crowd.

His eyes narrowed in quiet fury. She wasn't quite the moronic thug he'd taken her for. The Avatar was far more deceptive than he'd ever realized. She was strong. She kept her wits about her. It was almost admirable.

Breaking the Avatar would take time and energy and he was starting to realize that at this point in time he had little to spare.

Only a few hours ago he'd been convinced that the humiliation of the Avatar was the best possible means of uplifting the equalist's morale in preparation for the coming conflict. Now he was marveling at the web of consequences that were steadily stretching out before him.

He would have wondered what he'd been thinking, but he already knew what his line of thought had been…

He was making the same mistakes over and over again. But his decisions were no longer sitting well with him. He couldn't justify his choices to anyone, not even himself.

Amon liked to think of himself as a sober and abstemious man. In recent years he'd removed unnecessary, hedonistic pursuits from his life. He no longer consumed alcohol or sweet foods. His time was regulated down to the minute. He didn't practice his techniques where he could be observed by allies or opponents. He didn't engage in romantic entanglements, no matter how tempting it was to forge a connection…

He aimed to be a man without vice, a flawless paragon of humanity who was worthy of the title Avatar.

And yet he remained flawed.

He was still a blood bender… but he'd finally reached a point where could live with his abilities.

After several years of rigorous study, he'd come to the conclusion hat the Avatar had to have been using a form of blood bending to remove the bending of his adversaries. It made sense that the Avatar had been exempt from the laws that restricted the vile water tribe technique. After all, who could stand against the Avatar? Who could punish them?

Now that Amon had claimed the title of 'Avatar' he stood above all other people. No one could question his methods. He could live with his vile burden.

He still desired companionship… but he could resist the drive to connect physically.

If he were honest with himself, the revolution had consumed all his energy. His heart, mind, and soul were entirely given to the movement. He had no time for romantic or sexual entanglements of any kind… And yet he still desired companionship. There were moments when he came close to giving into the invitations of his lieutenant before he reminded himself that there would be time later…

Indeed, there would be time once everything was finished and settled. Perhaps then he would allow his physical passions to reawaken, but even that would have to be controlled. He could not risk letting anyone come too close.

But neither of these flaws were issues at the moment.

The problem was that he still allowed himself dangerous indulgences. He still loved his younger brother with unconditional selfishness and he still gave into his anger entirely too frequently...

Or rather, he gave into his anger with increasing frequency.

For years he'd let Tarrlok play the role of the villain and avoided capturing him. Every time the equalists called for Tarrlok's head, he gave them excuses and put off the attack. He let every vile act of violence against non-benders slide simply because he loved his younger brother and he…

 _…he could not break the promise he'd made over thirty years ago._

 _He'd promised their mother that he'd look after his little brother, that he'd protect him no matter what…_

 _That promise was all that he had left of…_

Amon felt a tremor dance up his arm and blinked. His eyes felt heavy in his skull. His teeth were clenched. He could feel the muscles in his face pulled into a grimace of pain.

He took a deep breath and forced the painful emotions down.

This was crux of the problem. He cared for Tarrlok. When Tarrlok was in trouble, he put aside all rational thought and he'd look after him. He would do so even if it meant injuring or even killing equalists.

And Tarrlok's propensity to antagonize others was the cause of this debacle. If Tarrlok hadn't antagonized the Avatar, she might not have… acted like an enraged rogue lion bull and violently assaulted him. She'd pushed Tarrlok to resort to blood bending, something that Amon knew his younger brother loathed above anything else…

Of course, Tarrlok had to cover up his abilities, so he'd kidnapped the Avatar. He'd done his best to pin everything on the equalists… which would have been perfectly fine… But that damn page had witnessed everything and exposed the councilman.

It was a shame that Amon hadn't been able to neutralize the page. If he'd just been paying closer attention that night…

It had been painful to watch Tarrlok resort to desperate measures—blood bending an entire crowd of people, rushing off without bothering to see if he was being tailed, deciding to kidnap the Avatar…

Every choice Tarrlok had made just put him in a deeper hole.

That's when Amon had stepped in. He'd followed Tarrlok to his little hiding place, and he'd come with vengeance in mind… The Avatar was a menace. She had to be put in her place for the safety of their family.

So, Amon had captured her, taken her bending, and locked her up. But his anger at her had been like an itch he couldn't scratch. Especially after his followers began to suggest that he publicly execute Tarrlok. He'd decided to give them the Avatar instead, but now he was starting to realize that he'd made a grievous miscalculation.

He'd had enough foresight to ensure that no serious physical harm would come to the Avatar. But she wouldn't satisfy the grudge that many equalists held against Tarrlok. They wanted blood and he couldn't spill hers without risking everything, after all, once she died, everyone would start looking for the next Avatar and he couldn't have that.

Furthermore, his decision to humiliate the Avatar so soon after her capture would antagonize her. She'd rage against him and his followers for years and that went counter to his ultimate goal. He needed the Avatar to become docile, happy, and willing to promote his cause.

And there was no time for him to begin the process of turning her into the docile spokeswoman he required.

That wasn't even getting into his egregious mistake of putting her in the cell adjacent to his brother. Apparently they'd started talking and sharing… He couldn't guess why. They had every reason to hate each other.

And he'd broadcast the entire humiliation spectacle to the world.

The plan had been to use the broadcast to inspire the equalist groups abroad and galvanize their enemies into premature action. But now he was considering that he might have put too much pressure on the other nations too soon. With the Avatar at stake, they might not react with more force than the equalists could possible handle…

He reached up with his left hand to touch his mask and pain lanced through his side. To his credit he didn't flinch, but he'd forgotten about his injury…

The Avatar had broken his ribs and his shoulder still ached horribly from the massive wound she'd opened with her ice blade.

She was strong…

A shudder passed through him. He lowered his left arm and pretended that he hadn't shivered in unease at the memory of fighting the young, poorly trained Avatar.

 _She'd been as vicious as a cornered polar bear dog._

But without her bending she was helpless. She was nothing.

He'd relocate her to a different cell before the war really got started. Once the conflict was initiated and fully underway, he'd get to work breaking her down. He'd force her to acknowledge him as the one true Avatar and he'd make her a slave to the equalist ideology.

As for Tarrlok…

He'd come up with something.

Optimally, Tarrlok would be integrated into the revolution as a key advisor. If such an outcome were completely impossible, then he'd have to move Tarrlok to a secure location. No matter what, his brother would be safe.

"Amon." His lieutenant's voice drew him back to the present moment. "Should we take them down? It's been four hours, most of the crowd has taken off, and I thought you wanted to make sure that the council members could not provide any resistance...?"

Amon nodded. "The hard chi-blocks on the council will need to be reinforced."

"Of course." The lieutenant stepped back and bowed slightly.

Amon walked past him calmly, still somewhat lost in his musings.

"Amon?" his lieutenant's voice drew him again from his thoughts.

Amon turned and looked at his lieutenant's expression; he was frowning. The man was concerned about something. "Ask what you need to ask while we walk."

"Yes sir."

The two made their way down the stairs toward the front door of the building.

"About the Avatar…?"

"Yes?"

"What are you going to do about her?"

Amon sighed. "She is going to be instrumental in spreading the revolution."

"Yes, but…" his lieutenant paused on the steps. "Won't everyone know that she was brainwashed? If everyone knows that she's not really saying these things because she believes it, but because she's been coerced or…" he swallowed, "that would make her less of a credible spokesperson."

Amon stopped in his tracks. He turned to look up at his lieutenant, silently considering the mans' words. Then he said, "You're right."

As much as it galled Amon to admit it, the man had a point. His impulsive, vengeful acts against the Avatar today meant that when he did break her down and force her to join the equalists, her testimony would be seen for what it was… an act of coercion. He had to come up with a way of making her apparent turn-around seem less like brainwashing and more like an honest change of heart…

He glanced at his lieutenant. The man was watching him with quiet concern. With that expression on his face, his mustache seemed extra droopy.

Amon smiled under his mask. "Come on. I'll come up with something. Let's not keep our guests waiting too long."

The lieutenant smiled. "Of course, sir!"

As soon as Amon and his lieutenant stepped out of the building they were met with the cheers of the lingering crowd. There was a shiny, new, topless satomobile waiting to give them a ride across the square. Several equalists had already been made aware Amon's intentions and were herding the onlookers who were still lingering out of the way, clearing a path to the platform.

As they drove through the cheering crowd, Amon considered the situation. How did he make the Avatar's conversion seem… genuine? What were his options?

Imprisoning her until he was successful was out of the question. She'd need to be seen regularly… and he'd need a convincing narrative. Something that people responded to…

Amon's eyes slipped closed and he let out a sigh of resignation.

There was one narrative that the entire world would fall for over and over again. He knew it. He just really didn't want to consider it.

His nose wrinkled in disgust at the thought of having to actually 'live-out' such a narrative with the Avatar, but it was like they always said: _everyone_ loved a good romance. The more unlikely the lovers, the better, and you really couldn't get more unlikely than the leader of the equalist movement and the Avatar…

 _But…_ he thought as the car pulled up in front of the platform, _there's no need to rush into this. After all, a convincing romance takes time…_

As he disembarked his eyes wandered his loyal followers. He caught sight of a young female chi-blocker with long legs and a darker complexion under her green glass goggles. She was probably water tribe. He took note of her.

He'd like to have a little bit more fun with some of the younger members of the equalist movement who were his type before he got hitched to a bratty ex-bender. Maybe he'd even find a few lovers to keep him company so that he didn't have to share his bed with the Avatar every night.

He walked up the platform and took in the sorry state of the Republic City council members. They were all quietly slumped against their respective poles, covered in filth, and looking very defeated. He scoffed under his mask. They'd gotten what was coming to them.

His gaze focused on the Avatar. She looked awful. Her clothes had splotches of various shades of brown from the rotten fruit and other refuse that had been thrown at her over the course of the four hours she'd been used for target practice. Her hair had begun to slip free of the wolf's tail she wore and several of her thick brown locks, sticky and greasy from the rotten food flung at her, framed her face. He strode over to her and lifted her chin to get a sense of her emotional state.

Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw him, but quickly narrowed. She glared at him like a wounded animal. "Let me go," she snapped, her voice full of contempt and defiance.

Amon let out a huff of disbelief at her moxy. He smirked in amusement under his mask. "No."

She flinched at the word, then jerked her chin sharply out of his hand—an admirable feat considering how most of her upper body was fastened to the pole behind her, limiting her range of movement. "Haven't you done enough?!" She shouted. "You _won_! _I lost_! I get it! Let me go! I'm _nothing_ to you now!"

He looked down into her angry, defiant blue eyes with cold composure. Then he laughed. "You're a fool, aren't you? You're a symbol of everything that is wrong with the world, but you have been corrected. You will prove to everyone that the world can be corrected. You will continue to live among the equalists for the rest of your life to show the world that without bending the world can be at peace."

She scoffed. "Yeah right! Like anyone would believe those words coming from a man who just publicly humiliated an ex-bender like me!"

"But they'll believe it coming from you."

The Avatar's brow furrowed, her eyes widened, and her lips parted in surprise. She stared up at him, frozen in shock.

"You will live to serve the revolution."

At his words she snapped out of her stupor. "But why?! You said it yourself, I'm not the Avatar anymore! I can't bend anything! No one is going to listen to me! I'm just…" she searched for words, "I'm just another water tribe girl!"

Amon chuckled again. Well, at least she could make him laugh. "Just another water tribe girl? Do you really think so?" He reached forward and grabbed her neck, drawing her forward as far as she could go. He wanted her complete attention. "You were once the Avatar. If I let you go you will become a symbol of resistance. You will always be a symbol of resistance. People will rally around you, turn to you."

She looked frightened and confused, as if she didn't quite understand what he was saying. It was as though she had no idea how powerful she really was, like she'd never considered her potential as a leader and symbol. But he knew that she wasn't that stupid, she'd proven that she had more than half a brain earlier today. He wasn't falling for her act again.

"You will learn to live as an equalist. You will act as a shining example for all benders who have been equalized."

He could feel her shuddering in his grip as she breathed out a single, horrified word: "…no…"

He smiled patronizingly down on her, tilting his mask in just the right way so that it showed an approximation of his actual expression. "Yes. You will. And if you don't do whatever I tell you…" he let the warning hang between them.

Her lower lip quivered and tears streaked down her cheeks as she stared up at him in abject terror.

She was afraid.

Good.

This willful brat was going to learn to live under his rule. She would spend the rest of her natural life under his complete control. He would decide where she lived, who she associated with, what she ate, what she wore, who saw her where and when. She wouldn't be able to take a piss without him knowing about it. And he'd make sure that she never saw another bender ever again.

Yes, he was better than his father. He'd successfully destroyed the Avatar. Now all he had to do was take complete control of her pathetic shell and make sure she never escaped. Through her, he'd control everything. No one would dare cross him as long as the once-most-powerful being in the world answered his beck and call like a meek, obedient slave. Her voice would become his voice, her words would be his words, and through her the world would come to love and fear him as he deserved.

He released her throat. She jerked away from him and pressed herself as close to the pole behind her as possible, weeping piteously. She was cowering...

Ah.

He'd let his temper run away with him again, hadn't he?

He let out a heavy sigh. This would make it much harder to bring her around later on. He had to learn to be… _nice_ … to this spoilt brat.

He looked her over. She was still covered in stains and grease from the garbage that had been flung at her. She needed to be cleaned up.

He reached out and carefully pulled the three pale blue ornamental pieces out of her hair. He was momentarily surprised by how she looked with her hair down. She wasn't too hard on the eyes, but her masculine style hid her feminine charms.

Speaking of looks...

"You," he gestured to the female water tribe chi-blocker.

The chi-blocker approached quickly and bowed. "Yes, Mr. Amon, sir?"

Mr. Amon?

Most chi-blockers called him 'master Amon' or 'fearless leader Amon' or 'lord Amon' or 'savior Amon.' Maybe she wasn't all that attractive after all…

"Take the Avatar and clean her up. Make sure that she's thoroughly washed before she's returned to her cell. If I see even a speck of dirt on her, you will be held responsible. Do not let her escape, but let no harm come to her. She's a valuable political prisoner, we need her whole and undamaged." He cast another look at the Avatar and shook his head. "Burn her clothes, they're soiled beyond repair. Find her something more… suitable for a woman in her position."

The chi-blocker glanced at him in surprise. "Sir?"

He tilted his head and eyed the young Avatar. "Something... adequately modest and feminine."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Avatar's cheeks flush with shame. She jerked and twisted until her long brown hair hid her face and her expression.

The chi-blocker nodded curtly. "Yes, sir."

He stepped back as his subordinate stepped up to the Avatar. He wanted to watch the woman's work and assess her behavior. It'd give him an idea of how much work he had to do to integrate the Avatar into his army.

The chi-blocker paused just a few steps away from the Avatar and bowed.

Amon blinked in surprise.

"Please forgive me, my sister. One day I hope to share this world with you when you are ready to accept true equality."

Amon nearly called off the chi-blocker, but the woman had already drawn a knife. She stepped up to the Avatar and quickly cut away the ropes. The Avatar lunged forward, only for the chi-blocker to quickly and easily slam her back into the pole.

The woman moved quickly and expertly, her fingers quickly and lightly striking a series of points on the Avatar's arms and legs that would immobilize her. She neatly scooped the prone Avatar up in a fireman's carry, neatly slinging the other girl's body over her shoulders. She set off quickly across the platform, carrying the Avatar with unusual ease.

Amon's watched the woman take her leave silently.

 _Why would an equalist chi-blocker ask forgiveness from a bender?_

He called out to another nearby female chi-blocker. The woman approached obediently.

"You heard my orders to your sister?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Make sure your sister follows them to a 'T.'"

The second chi-blocker seemed surprised by the order, but nodded and took off after the Avatar and her comrade. He watched her dart after the other woman and silently considered the water tribe chi-blocker's words with quiet concern.

But he couldn't quite put his finger on what troubled him.

[] [] []

Tarrlok glanced up from where he was sprawled on the floor at the sound of a door opening. He hoped that it wasn't another equalist come to torment and mock him. He'd had visits from a gloating Sato and a reserved, but quietly furious, mustached lieutenant… he thought he recognized Amon's right hand from somewhere…

Instead he was treated to the sight of a thoroughly defeated, damp Avatar Korra who was sporting a new, far more conservative outfit in equalist browns and grays. The equalists in charge marched her back to her cell, put her down inside, and locked the door firmly.

He felt a stab of pity for the young woman. Korra was still young. She'd never asked for this— _even if she had played a role in ruining his entire life…_

He mentally scolded himself. He couldn't afford to think about that right now. She was his only ally and he needed her help if they were going to get out of here and stop Amon and the equalists. After all, the only way to get himself out of trouble for kidnapping the Avatar and being a blood bender was to save the Avatar and become a big damn hero.

Right now, he needed to treat Korra as an ally, not an enemy. So he asked her what had happened. She told him everything. She'd been humiliated, degraded, had everything she valued taken from her—her clothes, her hair ornaments, and even control over her body. The equalists who'd brought her in had stripped her and bathed her themselves, she'd been chi-blocked throughout the entire process.

Korra's tale made Tarrlok wince and shudder in horror. He did his best to express his deepest sympathies and comfort the distressed young woman. But his mind was already racing ahead and doing a fancy bit of political logic…

He was calculating which outcome where Amon left the Avatar alive gave Amon the best position. He'd landed on one particular outcome that made the most sense considering the political climate and the resistance that the equalist movement would likely face as it moved forward. He knew he should share his thoughts with Korra, but he was pretty sure she wouldn't take it well.

"So…" He began carefully. "It seems my brother intends to keep you alive."

"I guess."

Tarrlok winced. Frankly, he'd rather comfort her and tell her everything would come out all right in the end, but the situation was pretty ugly right now. She needed to hear his analysis of the situation and Amon's decision. "It's a solid political move. You can be an example to everyone that there is life and mercy for benders once their power is gone." He was trying to open this topic carefully. He waited for her response to gauge her reaction.

Korra huffed and slammed her first against the wall. "It's like I traded one compound for another."

"Compound?" His brow furrowed and he stared at the wall. What did she mean by 'compound?'

"It's where I lived in the South Pole." He heard her settled against the wall again. "I ran off to… I guess I wanted to get away from that and see something other than Lotus Guards and Snow. It was so frustrating… but here I am again. Locked up."

He really should tell her his thoughts, but he'd never heard about this… "So you ran off and left your friends behind?" That didn't sound like Korra. She was hotheaded and impetuous, but she'd given the impression of intense, violent loyalty to her friends. He couldn't' see her abandoning her friends to run off to Republic City. _Maybe…_ "Were they in on the escape?"

Korra paused and when she finally responded, it was slowly, thoughtfully. "I guess. I always thought of Katara as more of a grandmother figure than a friend and I did have some really good relationships with my teachers… and my relatives could always come and go as they pleased, so I don't think I'm cut off from them. Not really." She stopped again, like she was considering. "I probably shouldn't have run off like that, but I couldn't stand it anymore and I didn't want to wait to learn air bending any longer."

Katara—Aang's wife, her teachers, her relatives… but she must have had friends her own age? "But you surely had friends your own age outside the compound, right? It wasn't just family and elders?" he asked. If she said 'no' he'd feel like a complete moron for failing to spot and exploit that weakness.

Korra didn't answer for a while. He suspected that her silence had more to do with trying to remember a single friend in her age group than any reluctance to speak and it irked him. "Sometimes they'd take me out to the festivals with a solid security detail and I'd manage to get away long enough to play with some of the kids my age, but…" _and there it was:_ "outside my cousins, I didn't really play with other kids that often."

He put his head in his hands and mentally calculated the number of ways he could have taken advantage of a young, desperately lonely teenage girl. Most of the methods were exceptionally unscrupulous and cruel, but all were ingenious and incredibly effective. Over half of them landed him in positions of power he'd only dared to consider in his most private and perverse fantasies.

He'd been trying to play her as though she were a confident, knowledgeable, but inexperienced political figure who knew the basics, but had never put any of her skills into practice. He'd been prepared for a lion-bull-headed, straight-talking young woman who knew what she was doing, and had a good head on her shoulders. He hadn't been prepared for a teenager fresh out of the boonies with no clue what was going on, who was just… _bluffing her way through all of this!_

 _Oh, spirits._

He slid his hands down over his face and stared out into the cell quietly, eyes wide with dawning realization.

She'd been _bluffing_. She'd been bluffing the entire time.

What idiot had ever decided to let her out of that compound in the South Pole? Who would be so, damn stupid to let a teenage Avatar, with no clue about the outside world, charge into Republic City without any warning about anything that was going on? Whose bright idea-!?

Oh.

Right.

She'd _run away_ , because she was so damn isolated and lonely.

He rubbed his forehead thoughtfully. Well, he had a chance to start over, and there was no time like the present. If he played his hand right, he'd land himself in an even better position than before he'd taken his fall. Even if the equalists won, he might still end up well positioned.

This was setting itself up to be a win-win situation for him. But he liked the 'savior of the United Republic' title more than, 'reformed councilman of the Equalist Empire.' And with that in mind, it was time to light a fire under the Avatar.

He schooled his expression and his voice to be as concerned and distressed as possible. "Korra. The compound might not be the end of it. If pressure mounts, my brother may force you into a political marriage."

He could almost feel Korra's shock through the wall. "What?"

He smirked a little. Now came the part he wasn't going to enjoy… in order to establish a strong connection you had to give a little to get a little. Or, if your target was particularly inexperienced, desperate, and lonely; you had to give a little to get a lot. So, he did his best to control his embarrassment and explained. "I'm telling you, because it's what _I_ would do. But he would reap many more benefits." Tarrlok pushed his hair out of his face. "If he marries you, he can show a united front. It would stabilize his revolution and force the nations to recognize it as a legitimate cause. Even without your bending, the Four Nations will still listen to the one they know as Avatar." All logical and reasonable, that little bit about the marriage was absolutely true and he knew that flattery in this instance would open plenty of doors for him…

" _You'd_ marry _me_?" He could hear the incredulity in her voice.

Tarrlok was relieved for the wall between them. She couldn't see him flush with embarrassment at his own confession, even as his grin widened a little. She really had no idea what men were like, did she?

Tenzin should have sent her straight home.

He sucked in a sharp breath and did his best to sound scolding and embarrassed by his comment. "Korra focus on the issue at hand!"

" _I know_. I just… don't want to think about that." Of course she didn't.

 _But she hadn't said anything bad about considering marriage to him instead. That was something he'd keep in mind…_

He did his best 'scolding Tenzin impression.' "You _need_ to think about this. He won't seek it out immediately, but over time, as he tries to extend his reach to the other nations…" He let the words hang in the air like an unspoken threat.

"He'll want a show of acceptance and solidarity." Korra said the words with a kind of frightened finality.

He waited for her to start bluffing ad posturing.

He didn't have to wait long.

She slammed her fist into the wall again; he could hear her twisting into a standing position as she snarled as loudly and viciously into the empty cell. "I'm not going to marry that monster! I'd rather die!"

He hid his smile behind his arms as he told her with great finality: "Those might be your only options."

[] [] [] END CHAPTER 2 [] [] []

And One More Thing: _**AMON TOP**_


	3. Scheme

**Quick Word:** Things get moved around. The first scene in Chapter 3 here is the last scene of Chapter 2. It works a little better as the first scene of Chapter 2, methinks... In other news... this is a heavy chapter...

 **Part 1: Intrigue**  
 **Act 2: Family Matters**  
 **Chapter 3: Scheme**  
 **A/N:** _ _And wouldn't you know it, Amon just thwarted someone who doesn't take a thwarting well…_ _

**_Trigger Warning: PTSD, triggered character, anxiety attack, mention of child taken by government/authoritative institution,_** _ **discussion of murder/murderous intent, chauvinistic culture, v**_ _ **erbal abuse, violent alcoholic behavior, implied intent to rape**_

It was the height of summer in the South Pole. The winds were low, the sky was clear, and the sun was still in the sky at eleven pm. In fact, the sun would only dip below the horizon for a few hours during the warmest months of the year. Night would only grow long again when the seasons changed.

Of course, no matter what time of year it was, humans needed to sleep. In order to remain, healthy, productive, and sane, the peoples of the Southern Water Tribe would block their windows to create an artificial darkness in their homes and would build up the snow around the outer walls. So that even when the sun bore down on their little pit houses, the interior remained dark and cool.

Senna and Tonraq had already pulled their shutters closed, lit the lion seal tallow candles and lanterns, and were preparing to settle in for a warm, restful evening. There were only a few domestic chores and nightly rituals to take care of before the two could curl up together. Both were looking forward to a quiet, potentially romantic night.

Senna was at the sink, carefully cleaning the dishes from dinner with a soft, cloth towel. She took her time, moving slowly and carefully over each dish until it was spotless. She set the last dish down and smiled at the collection of clean plates and eating utensils stacked beside her. Then she turned her gaze to her hands. She flexed her fingers gently and with great care. They were cool and stiff, but they weren't shaking.

The tremors were all but gone. She'd been almost entirely without the bone deep shuddering for nearly ten years. They only returned when she was particularly anxious or stressed, but she chose to take pleasure in the fact that she'd recovered so much since that terrible night. She was practically self-sufficient again, which was a relief. She hated relying too heavily on Tonraq—he had his own troubles and ambitions to wrestle with. The least she could do was take care of herself. _  
_

 _Speaking of her husband…_

She straightened slowly, and leaned her head back, turning slightly to listen. She could hear the sound of voices slipping in and out of a haze of static. Tonraq was in the large, central hearth-room, fiddling with the radio. He was looking for that particular station.

She chuckled to herself. He loved that Republic City pro-bending station and ever since Korra had become a pro-bender he'd made an extra effort to listen to that station as often as possible. It took a special touch to get the signal, but he could do it. The local men were always inviting him down to the pub during the pro-bending season to get him to set up the radio so they could listen in on the games.

Senna shuffled around the kitchen, taking her time to put things away and finish cleaning up. She didn't want to rush him. He always said it took a steady hand and a careful ear to catch that elusive broadcast. He hated being distracted.

But as she finished her work in the kitchen, she frowned. He was taking longer than usual. She made her way slowly into the hearth room, taking small, careful steps.

She stopped in the doorway and took in the sight of her great, big husband, kneeling on the floor next to the tiny, ornate box, his large head pressed up against the small speakers, his heavy brow furrowed in deep concentration. He was frowning deeply, but she could tell he wasn't upset. She was quite familiar with this particular expression—it was his 'I'm very busy with something that requires a great amount of focus and careful finesse right now' face.

Warmth spread through her chest at the sight of her big man kneeling there with that look on his face. She couldn't keep the broad, happy smile off her own face and found herself covering the display of candid pleasure with her hand. It was a feeble attempt to keep a delighted laugh from escaping.

Oh, this great, big water tribe warrior of hers…

 _He was adorable._

But then she noticed the lines under his eyes and a little cheer left her. Something was troubling him.

She stepped into the large, central room of their pit house and took a seat on the sofa near where he knelt. She smiled at him as she asked, "Is everything alright, honey?"

Tonraq jerked and turned to look at her. With both his hands still on the radio and he looked like an arctic tanuki jackal that'd been caught thieving, but his expression made his posture particularly funny. He was still wearing his fierce, thoughtful frown as he stared at her as though he'd never seen her in his life. He looked like one of those ancient carvings of water tribe warriors—with their wide eyes, sharply down-turned mouth, great hairy brows arched high on their foreheads as if eternally surprised. Senna's mouth split into a grin of delight and she let herself laugh aloud. He looked hilarious.

Of course as soon as she started laughing, he relaxed and joined her, lending his own deep baritone. His frown spread into a wide, self-depreciating grin. "Ah, you caught me making that awful face again!" he guffawed.

Senna shook her head. "It's not an awful face at all."

Tonraq chuckled as he turned back to the radio. "Only my lovely, wonderful wife would say that! She doesn't mind when I put on an expression that makes me look like some kind of constipated, angry old man!"

"Well then, I guess you're lucky to have such an adoring wife."

He turned back to the dials and continued his fiddling. "Yes, I am."

Senna smiled slyly. "Well, if you're so lucky to have such an adoring wife, then maybe you should stop playing with that radio and come play with her."

Tonraq chuckled. "If she can be patient for a little while longer, I'll be right over to wrap her up in a warm, loving embrace."

Senna pouted and leaned back into the plush pillows. "You're lucky you're cute, Tonraq!"

Tonraq let out a low, rumbling laugh. "I'm lucky I found a woman who finds a big, smelly, ol' water tribe warrior adorable. Even when he makes a face that makes him look like a constipated, angry old tribal carving."

Senna gently nudged him with her foot in a vague approximation of a kick. "I always think you're adorable and sweet!"

"You think a lot of strange things are cute."

"You're right, I'll always think my darling husband is cute!"

That got another chuckle out of Tonraq and she could see that the tips of his ears were a little red—he was blushing. Senna smiled smugly, even after all these years she could make her hubby blush like a soldier-boy who'd just been given his first kiss by a pretty girl. She couldn't wait until he came to sit down next to her so they could snuggle up. But the mood quickly turned and he was soon frowning again. She could tell he was getting frustrated.

Senna frowned at his rapidly rising ire. "What's wrong?"

"I can't get the Republic City station." He muttered.

Senna's brow furrowed for a moment. "You know, it's not pro-bending season, all that'll be on are re-runs from…"

 _…last season…_

Senna couldn't keep the grin off her face. Even after all these years, her husband remained the same big, tough water tribe man with a shy, gentle, and loving temperament. He was a good man, a good husband, and a good father. He wanted to relive his daughter's victories in Republic City since they hadn't been able to see them.

"Do you think they'll be playing Korra's games?" she asked.

He hesitated. "It might be an earlier match, but if it's not tonight, we'll be able to catch it next week or the week after."

Senna felt a heaviness settle in her chest and her eyes clouded with tears. For a passing moment, she wondered if this was how mothers who'd lost their children at a young age felt. Was this what it was like to, in passing, imagine a lost child was still with them? That the little one a future?

Korra, of course, was still alive, but in a way Senna's daughter had never really belonged to her mother or father. The great destiny of the Avatar had, in a way, taken their daughter from them in every meaningful way.

But there were small moments when they felt that they were allowed to share in the life of their little girl. When Tonraq had taken Korra hunting for her fifteenth birthday, when she'd run away from the compound and hid at the shipyard where Tonraq worked, when she'd escaped again to stay with her parents during a festival and they'd been able to spend an entire week with her without White Lotus oversight… Those fleeting moments when they'd been allowed to be a real family were treasured.

When she and Tonraq had overheard the match that Korra had hijacked, they'd both been thrilled. Tenzin, of course, had sent a missive to Tonraq and to the White Lotus apologizing for Korra's wayward behavior and fretting over the fact that The Great and Estimable Avatar had lowered herself to paying a simple sport, but Senna couldn't have been happier. Pro-bending had been something that Senna and Tonraq had shared with Korra on the rare occasions they'd been able to spend time with her. Hearing that their daughter was pursing something that represented her tie to her family, even in that distant city, warmed her heart. Every game was something that Senna and Tonraq looked forward to—it was a means of connecting with their precious little girl.

Every week they'd settle into the hearth room and Tonraq would fiddle with the dials on their radio until they caught that distant broadcast that brought their daughter home. Then, the two proud parents would settle in and spend the evening listening to the pro-bending game and cheering on their daughter. And for a moment they could pretend that they were a normal family, that their Korra was just a pro-bender and not someone with a great, terrifying, and potentially deadly destiny.

 _If only that announcer would just call Korra by her name, rather than her title! Didn't anyone know that Korra was more than 'the Avatar'?_

But those nights were among the happiest they'd shared as a family. Just thinking about it made Senna all teary eyed.

She swiped a bit of wetness from the corner of her eye with the tips of her fingers. "It would be wonderful to hear Korra's games again."

Tonraq let out a heavy sigh. "I'm having no luck. I swear I'm hitting the 'sweet spot,' but all I'm catching is some kind of political rally or a weird drama… I don't know what it is."

"A weird drama?"

"I thought it was a news station at first, but what they're saying makes no damn sense whatsoever. And now there's some actor doing a monologue in front of a big crowd…"

Senna sighed in disappointment, but forced a smile on her face. "Well, maybe they changed up the schedule? If we can't find the championships, let's give this monologue-guy a try. I'm sure they'll announce the new times at some point."

Tonraq gave her a look of disappointment, but Senna returned with an inviting smile as she lightly patted the seat next to her.

"You can give me pro-bending Korra another time, let me at least have a night with my big man."

Tonraq grumbled, but she knew she'd won. He'd work the dials to find the station and once that was done, she'd get to curl up next to him. They'd listen to whatever 'grand epic' nonsense Republic City was broadcasting this week and when they got bored or the show ended, they'd retire to a warm bed. She just hoped it wasn't The Tale of Wu Pao again. She hated that story so much.

Senna frowned at the memory of the last time she'd sat through a rendition of Wu Pao. "What drama do you think it is?"

"I don't know, but I swear I've heard this guy's voice before. I think he's a pretty high-class actor."

"Really?"

"Or he's the asshole who crashed the championships…"

Senna frowned sharply at the memory. "Ugh. I hope that guy gets his. I hope Korra punches his face in. I can't believe any non-bender would follow an asshole like that."

Tonraq nodded as he worked the dial. A powerful voice slipped in and out of hearing. "You know," he began, "I think it might be that guy who did Rounin Yuefu."

Senna immediately straightened up, her face lighting up with surprise and delight. "Oh my gosh! Really?! That's amazing! I hadn't heard that he was doing anything recently! Not that it's possible to hear things about big-name actors down here, but…"

Her husband nodded in agreement. "Well, he did drop off the face of the earth for a while. I heard his group broke up in Ba Sing Se ten to twenty years ago… there was some kind of big upheaval."

"I hope it is him. It'd be great to hear what he's doing. He had such a great voice!" Senna gushed.

Tonraq turned the dial and a powerful sinister voice emerged from the static to blare over the speakers: _[What are you going to do about it? You don't have your precious bending to fight us. Your allies have scattered. You are nothing!]_

The big water tribe man frowned as he quickly moved to sit down next to his wife. "I guess he's playing the villain? Sounds like it's a big moment…"

Senna hummed in agreement and leaned into her husband's shoulder. "Sounds like we're a little late. If it is him, I hope they do re-runs."

A female voice responded to the powerful male voice. _[Yeah, you're right! I'm just a non-bender now, just like everyone else here! That's not 'nothing,' is it, Amon? Or maybe you look down on your followers just as much as you look down on benders?]_

Senna blinked in surprise at the voice of the actress. She sounded just like Korra. A strange chill settled over her skin and she shifted closer to Tonraq. She could feel the tension in his body as he stiffened in what had to be surprise.

 _Actress… It had to be an actress… That couldn't be her… it couldn't possibly be Korra…_

A low murmuring sound emerged from the speakers, as if a large crowd were reacting to the words of the female speaker…

Senna's breath hitched in her throat.

 _[Don't try to twist my words, Avatar!]_ the sinister voice snarled, _[How typical of a bender to lie!]_

There were cries of agreement from whatever assembly was watching the drama on location.

Senna's brow furrowed in confusion and her fingers dug into her husband's shirt. Tonraq squeezed her arm, comfortingly. This was confusing and frightening…

 _[I'm not the one who twists words, Amon!]_ the woman who sounded like Korra shouted. _[I'm not a liar! Didn't I just admit that I can't bend anymore!? I've got nothing left to lose and it's not like I've got anything to hide either!]_

Her voice was loud, clear, and without any of the mellifluous qualities that so many radio-drama actresses employed. Her words were without affectation or artifice—this was someone who was articulate, but without experience…

Senna could feel a knot forming in her stomach as a cold certainty began to creep into the back of her mind.

 _That was her daughter's voice._

She let out a shuddering breath as her fingers slipped down to dig into her husband's thigh. She could not move, not even to blink as she grappled with what she was hearing.

 _[What?]_ the sinister voice gloated, _[This from the girl who claimed that non-benders were oppressing themselves?]_

Senna sucked in a sharp breath of shock. _What had he accused her daughter of saying?_

Tonraq let out a bark of harsh laugher. "What the hell is this?"

She glanced up to see his lips pulled back in a wide grimace. He looked as frozen as she felt. She didn't think he could tear his eyes away from the radio.

The crowd on the radio roared its approval. The garbled, raucous anger was horrible and menacing. Those people were in such a frenzy there was no telling what they'd do!

Senna heard Tonraq's voice over the sounds on the radio. "Is this some kind of sick joke?!"

Korra's voice blared over the speakers again, _[I made mistakes! Doesn't everyone make mistakes? Even Aang made mistakes! Am I not allowed to make mistakes just because I'm the Avatar!? But what you're doing isn't just a mistake! You're doing this on purpose! You're lying to everyone!]_

Senna only realized that her fingers were digging into the flesh of her husband's thigh when Tonraq pried her hand from his leg. He held it tightly, but her hand still shook in his strong, warm strong grip. He pulled her closer to him, so that her smaller body was almost entirely engulfed in his.

Senna clung to her husband's larger frame as she began to shiver. The surface of her skin felt cold. Her breathing was becoming irregular.

 _This was a joke, right?_

 _It had to be a joke._

But what if it wasn't?

 _[Tell me, Avatar, what have I lied about_? _]_ She could hear the smirk in his voice.

The voice on the radio sounded unnaturally loud. Her eyes felt hot and her breathing was becoming increasingly unsteady.

This wasn't a joke.

She knew this wasn't a joke.

This was the man from the Championship game, the Equalist Leader, Amon. The man who'd sworn again and again to destroy the Avatar, who'd attacked and terrorized Korra. Now he had her in a room full of his followers…

 _What was this man going to do to her baby?_

"No…" She whispered.

This wasn't happening. Not again.

 _…not again, not again, not again, not again, not again, not again, not again, not again, not again, not again, not again, not again, not again, not again, not again, not again, not again, not again, not again…_

Senna couldn't find the strength to speak. She could barely think. The radio dominated her vision. She wanted to bury her face in Tonraq's shirt and hide from what was happening, but she couldn't move at all. Not even to look away and find solace.

Korra began speaking hesitantly, her voice seemed to falter, but soon grew in confidence and strength until she was shouting triumphantly and angrily over the air waves.

But Senna couldn't understand a single word her daughter was saying. She couldn't feel the warmth of the hearth room or her husband. On an intellectual level she knew she was looking at a small radio, with a pretty facade carved out of a fine, pale wood that sat on lovely little polished table Tonraq had assembled out of scraps and unwanted timber a few years back…

All she could see was the darkness of a cold, moonless, southern night. The winds were high, visibility was low, but not low enough to render _them_ invisible. They were four figures moving rapidly away, toward the shoreline where they'd anchored a small junk.

Senna knew nothing and everything about these people, but none of that mattered at all. The only thing that mattered was that if she didn't catch up with them, if she didn't stop them, she'd never see her daughter again. She couldn't let that happen. _  
_

 _She wouldn't let anyone hurt Korra or take her away. No matter what happened, she would never let anyone cause her baby any harm. She'd die before she let that happen._

A pair of warm, strong arms wrapped around her body. A strong hand turned her head so that her eyes were shrouded in darkness and heat. She could smell the heavy, comforting scent of Tonraq all around her.

"Senna." His low voice reverberated in the small bones of her face. "Senna, breathe. I need you to breathe."

She sucked in an unsteady breath. She let it out slowly. She drew another and let the sound of her breathing swallow the terrible conversation taking place on the radio. With every breath the terrible visions from the past that made her bones ache and her body shudder as a cold had settled into her bones faded away.

When she felt she could stand it again, she asked, "What… what are they saying?"

She more felt than heard Tonraq's response. "I… I don't understand it all… but I think… Korra thinks he's a liar. He's some kind of dangerous bender and she's the only one who knows about it."

Korra's shaky voice came out of the speakers, _[There's no way a chi-blocker could ever stand up to you…]_

Senna gently disentangled herself from Tonraq's arms. "No way a chi-blocker…? I knew they should have let me oversee her training." She joked. But she was still frightened, still worried about her daughter.

Amon chuckled. _[Care to share your theories, Avatar?]_

With a few words, Amon successfully turned all the fear and anxiety that Senna felt into something she could process: Rage.

Senna fixed her gaze on the radio. "He thinks he's won. That smug bastard…" she snarled. "He thinks he's won!" She squirmed in her husband's arms, incensed at the smug pleasure she heard in the Equalist Leader's voice.

The radio crackled as Amon laughed. [ _How ridiculous! You have no evidence whatsoever! This is just another baseless claim!]_ He was mocking her _. [You see, like all benders, the Avatar is nothing more than a liar!]_

She couldn't stand it anymore. "How dare he," she growled. "How dare he talk to our little girl like that!" She wanted to pull herself out of Tonraq's arms and smash that pretty radio so it's metal insides were scattered across the floor, but as angry as she was, she didn't have the strength to pull free.

And Tonraq held her fast.

"He's doing this for a reason." Her husband's voice surprised her. He sounded particularly calm and rational. "He's using her."

Senna turned to look at him. "What?" She hadn't expected him to be so calm at a time like this. Usually she kept her head and he was the one going off on a tear…

But then, she'd lost her cool, so he'd stepped up. That was how it was—whenever one of them was going crazy the other stepped up to be cool and rational. They worked well together.

"He's humiliating her to rally his troops." Tonraq said with all the seriousness and authority of a general.

Senna's eyes widened. "Troops?" she asked. "What are you talking about?"

The radio drew their ear again at the sound of their daughter's wrathful snarling. _[Do you want me to spell out your entire, horrible backstory to a room full of people you could kill with a look!? To invite a murderous blood bath? Oh no, your brother told me enough about you! You wouldn't hesitate to use your abilities on helpless animals, you haven't hesitated to use them on benders, and I seriously doubt that you'd think twice before hurting one of your followers!]_

Tonraq's stared at the radio in shock. "What the hell…?"

 _[Enough!]_ a voice growled. There was the sound of a struggle.

Tonraq released Senna suddenly as he leapt to his feet. "Korra!"

Senna heard Korra shout _[No!]_ and lurched to the front of the couch. Her hands covering her mouth in shock and fear. Had they hurt her?

But rather than deafening, terrible, silence, Korra's voice rang out loud and clear: _[I'm not done making 'baseless claims!' But speaking of baseless claims, how do yours stand up, huh?!]_ she drew a sharp, loud breath, _[I never once lied about a single thing! Maybe I didn't know anything when I came to this city, but I was always upfront and honest! You, though… tell me, has anyone ever actually seen your real face? Does anyone recognize you? Can they vouch for you and your story?_

 _[I'm sure they all know you're not from Republic City—you didn't grow up here! Everyone's been more than happy to take you at your word about what happened to your family! I'm sure you're more than happy to let them follow you around blindly!]_

The sound of the crowd's murmuring was rising. There was concern, confusion, and chaos in the background. For a moment it seemed that Korra's powerful voice would be swallowed by the outcries of anger.

 _[But I KNOW!]_ Korra's cry of rage cut through the din. Her words were almost rendered intelligible due to their volume.

The broadcast suddenly dropped. Static filled the room.

"Tonraq!" Senna screamed as she lurched toward the little box. She tried to stand, but her legs gave out under her and she sat on her knees on the floor, her fingernails scraped against the stones under her.

Tonraq was already beside the small device, fiddling with the dials. "Shit!"

She watched him work the dials desperately. "What happened?" She asked, her voice was steady despite the tremors that shook her body so hard that she thought her bones would come loose.

"Interference! It has to be interference! Some kind of storm or a tree or…!" He slammed a fist into the floor. "It could be anything!" he snarled angrily.

Senna crawled over to him and put her arms around his waist, pressing her head into the spot between his shoulders. He was breathing heavily. After a moment, felt his big hand find her own.

"Can you get the signal back?" she asked.

"I don't know," he replied. "I can try."

Senna squeezed him gently. She heard the radio stations change slowly. Voices emerged and slipped back into the static. And then Korra's voice broke through again:

 _[-u're a monster who didn't even think twice when your father ordered you to hurt your own brother!_ ]

The station went quiet then as the dull sound of low static filled the hearth room.

"Did we lose the signal again?" Senna asked.

But then a low, soft murmuring sound started to come through—as if a large crowd were expressing surprise. The voices were almost indistinguishable from the undercurrent of static, but it was there.

Tonraq slid away from the radio and gently wrapped his wife up in his arms once more as they settled at the base of the couch. He pressed his face into her hair as he whispered: "We've still got it."

Amon's voice broke the silence. _[Pathetic.]_

Senna and Tonraq stared at the radio with wary eyes.

And then Amon's next command came through:

 _[Gag her.]_

Senna let out a huff of tear-filled horror and anger, even as her husband wrapped her in an even more protective grip: "… that sonovabitch…" he growled. "That sonovabitch…!"

She could feel him shaking too, now. He was just as angry as she was, but he was holding it in admirably for her sake.

Senna swallowed and gently disentangled from her husband's arms. She rose to her feet slowly and unsteadily to face the small box. She felt strangely calm as she did so—it was as though all her anger and fear had vanished. She could distantly hear Tonraq speaking her name, asking her if she was alright. But the only sound that filled her head was the scuffle on the air waves. It was the sound of equalists gagging her daughter in front of a crowd.

 _[Behold the Avatar: a powerful, vile bender finally put in her rightful place!]_ Amon's resonant voice filled their house and her head, _[Bound and muzzled like the violent animal that she-!]_

Senna didn't wait to hear the rest of what Amon had to say. She reached down and flipped Tonraq's beautiful little table, sending their tiny, pretty radio flying across the room to shatter on the floor.

She stared at the broken remains of their radio. The wood had broken and bent in odd directions. Springs and wires spilled from the interior of the machine.

In that moment, the radio, to her mind, bore a remarkable resemblance to Amon's head.

And as she stood over the mess she's made, she smiled quietly to herself.

She was going to hunt Amon down.

She was going to find him.

And then she was going to smash his skull in.

And his head would look just like this radio with its inner-workings spilled across the floor.

A pair of warm hands gently encased her shoulders, "Senna? Are you okay?"

Tonraq's voice brought her back to reality and all the fight left her abruptly. She let out a soft gasp as her knees gave out. Her husband's grip on her shoulders tightened as he lowered her to the ground and pulled her into his lap.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Senna was silent for a moment as she contemplated the question. Was she okay? She was whole, she was safe, she was with her darling and devoted husband in their little house in the South Pole. She was, on the whole, alright. But she wasn't going _to be_ alright. How could she be alright? Her baby was being held hostage by a horrible man who was hurting her.

So she told him the truth. "No. I'm not alright. Nothing is alright." Her eyes clouded with tears and she swallowed sharply. "After all this time, after everything I did to make sure she'd be safe! After everything we gave up…! After everything I lost…! After all that work just to be able to walk again, just to stand up and all it takes is…!"

He pulled her into his warm, large body and pressed a comforting kiss to the top of her head. "It's alright. This is nothing."

A heavy sob tore its way out of her chest. "It's not nothing! Our daughter's in danger and here I am falling apart and helpless to do anything!" Her body heaved as another sob wrenched its way out. "And what can I do about it?!" Hot tears coursed down her cheeks. "What can I _do_ , Tonraq?! I can barely _stand_ anymore! I can't even fight!" She swiped at her tears with the back of her wrist. " _Spirits damnit, Tonraq!_ _I can't do anything to save her this time!_ "

"Hey, now." Her husband's voice rumbled. "That's not true, you've come a long way since then. You march around the house and boss me around. You can stand just fine, but you know that when you can't…" he swallowed loudly, "I'm here with you, remember? You have me. I'm still here. Remember what I promised?" he asked as his large hand came up to stroke her hair.

Senna hiccoughed and sniffled, half-choking on her own tears and anguish. "Yes."

"Are you sure?" her husband's voice was mournful rather than teasing.

She shook her head. "You're going to make me say it, aren't you?" She cast an accusing glare up at him through red, nearly bloodshot eyes.

Tonraq gave her a sympathetic half-smile. "I am."

She pushed his chest with feeble arms. "You jerk!"

That got a chuckle out of him. "Come on. What did I promise? Do you remember?" He pulled her head into his chest.

Senna pressed a hand to his firm chest, just over his heart. She stared at it and recalled how she'd once been able to take down countless warriors with impressive ease… but that was lost to her now.

She'd lost so much.

She buried her face in his shirt and said, "You promised that you'd be my arms and legs for as long as I need."

"And that means, that if you need me to go up north and punch an equalist in the face, then I'll go up north and punch an equalist in the face."

She could tell she was crying again. His shirt was getting wet from her tears and probably her snot as well. She tilted her head up to look at him and smiled through her distress. "I love you."

He returned her smile, tracing lines of worry into his tanned face. "I love you too."

She pressed her ear against his chest and listened to his heartbeat and the steadiness of his breath.

"Tonraq?"

"Yes?"

"Let's go take our daughter back."

He shifted under her. She could feel him peering curiously down at her. "Take our daughter…?"

She turned her head so that her nose was pressed against his shirt. She breathed in deeply. "The White Lotus promised that they'd protect her. That was why we went along with all this compound nonsense, isn't it? They failed. I'm done letting other people raise my child. I won't' let anyone take my daughter away from me again. I'm not letting anyone locker her up, even if they say it's for her own protection. She hated it. I hated it." Senna felt fresh tears stain her cheeks. "They made us lie to her…"

Her fingers curled into his shirt and she pulled away from him to sit up straight and tall, she looked him in the eye. "Enough of this 'for her own good' crap. Let's bring Korra home."

Tonraq looked like he was going to argue, but any desire to fight left him as he let out a long heavy sigh. "I don't know if she'd like us interfering or dragging her off."

Senna didn't back down. "Then we'll bring home to Korra, even if it's only for a little while. But I'm done not being part of my daughter's life."

"Are you sure about this?"

"Yes. The White Lotus failed. They aren't worth a fraction of the price of the uniforms they wear. They never were." Senna swallowed and looked away. "We should have known better than to put our faith in them."

Tonraq stiffened. "Senna!"

She rounded on him. "It's true! They showed up to 'guard' Korra, three months later someone's trying to carry her off! They lost that fight, Tonraq!" Her voice cracked and broke. "They lost the fight and they had the nerve to take my daughter from me after their spectacular failure, after my father died and I broke my back to bring her home! They took advantage of us and our suffering to pull our family apart! I'm done with those charlatans! They've done a piss poor job and I refuse to stand by while people hurt my little girl over and over again!"

Tonraq was silent. He stared at her quietly, an expression of surprise on his face. He looked somewhat taken aback by her anger.

Senna felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment at her outburst, but it felt good to get her anger off her chest at long last. She expected him to resist and defend the White Lotus and she was ready for any defense he had. But her husband surprised her.

He let out a somewhat harsh chuckle and said, "They've really cocked things up, haven't they?"

Senna nodded. She settled against him once more and curled into his warm embrace. Her mouth curved into a frown, there was one last thing on her mind that bore mentioning.

"Tonraq…" she began softly.

"Hm?"

"Someone taught my daughter things that…" she swallowed and her fingers dug into his shirt once more. "They filled her head with lies about people like me. I once swore that I'd do whatever it took to keep my daughter safe and she still doesn't know what I've done to keep her safe." Senna swallowed sharply. "Even if she can never really be allowed to know about it, I'm never going to break that promise. I'll do whatever it takes to keep my word, to keep my baby safe."

"You don't have to do that."

"You know I do." Senna nuzzled her husband's chest. "I don't care if Korra is the Avatar. She's still my daughter, my little girl. She's the only child we'll ever-"

Tonraq's arms wrapped her and he locked her in an almost suffocating embrace. Senna wrapped her slender arms around his larger ones as best she could.

Something warm and wet dripped onto her forehead. "You're right," Tonraq's voice was rough with emotion. "We've let this go on for too long. I thought Tenzin and the White Lotus could handle this, were the best suited for it, but…"

"Tenzin's a good man," Senna said, "but I don't know if he could save anyone, let alone himself."

Tonraq let out a soft laugh. "You're right." He gave her a gentle squeeze and said, "Let's go get Korra back."

[] [] []

Korra sat curled up against the wall that divided her cell from Tarrlok's. She'd paced the cell for several hours. The equalists had come and gone, leaving food and drink for her. The light from the small window had started to fade. She imagined Tarrlok curled up just on the other side and it made her feel less alone and afraid.

And she was afraid.

She was _scared out of her wits_.

She buried her face in her arms and squeezed her eyes shut. Her body curled protectively into itself, it looked like she was trying to make herself as small as possible. She was trying to block out thoughts of the day, especially the part about Amon maybe marrying her for political gain.

Amon.

Terrifying, creepy, spirit mask-y, evil, possibly-a-blood bender, maybe-possessed-by-spirits Amon…

Marry _her_.

On a scale of terrifying possibilities, that one had been so high up on the list and _so insanely inconceivable_ she'd never really considered worrying about it. It hadn't even occurred to her that it might ever happen. But now she'd just learned that being married to Amon was within the realm of reasonable possibility. In other words, _it could actually happen in the near future.  
_

What did a political marriage entail, anyway?

Was there a ceremony? Did they live in the same place? Did he put her in a box and only bring her out for special occasions—like some sort of special piece of jewelry…?

 _Would they have to share a bed?_

Korra burrowed further into her arms until she was curled as tightly into herself as possible. She remained in that curled position for as long as possible, but then a shudder crept through her body. She uncoiled like a spring and lunged into the middle of the room, thrusting her fist forward as she fell into a fire bending stance.

No fire burst forth.

She dropped to her knees and crumbled into herself as she suddenly felt a great wave of crushing fear come down on her. Suddenly the loss of her bending as it related to her status as Avatar didn't matter quite so much as the fact that she could not fight back. If anything happened to her, if the equalists decided that maybe they didn't need her after all, she had no means of defending herself.

A shudder crept through her body.

 _No way to fight back…_

She swallowed hard and closed her eyes tightly. There had to be a way out, some method to fix this, she just hadn't thought of it yet because she wasn't patient and she didn't stop to think. That's why she was always in trouble. She didn't think things through.

 _Well, she had plenty of time to think now, didn't she?_

She stared fixedly at the floor as she tried to focus her thoughts. After a moment she shifted into a more comfortable seated position. She began to go over everything she knew about whatever she could think of about her enemy, Amon.

 _Amon, the New Avatar…_ the thought brought memories of this morning and the humiliation she'd suffered. She shunted them away. Not useful right now.

 _Amon, the Emissary of the Spirits…_ the man who wore that horrible mask to cover up the scars on his face. Those horrible, ugly…

Well, they weren't that bad, actually. He still had definition and features. Korrra distinctly recalled on particular fire bending White Lotus guard, Fong, whose face was mostly a reddish smear of flesh from losing against a 'bad guy.' Fong been one of her most determined guards, and also one of her best buds until he'd been transferred.

Really, by comparison Amon's scars weren't too bad. The way he'd been talking, she'd half expected that he wouldn't have a nose under his mask and that she'd be seeing his teeth through his cheek bones. He'd really blown the whole thing out of proportion in her opinion. But that was typical of a liar, wasn't it?

And he was a liar, wasn't he? He'd lied about his past, blown his facial scars way out of proportion, and kept all kinds of crazy secrets.

 _Amon, the liar._

She liked that. She didn't think she could fight a New Avatar, she didn't think she stood a chance against an emissary from the Spirits, but she thought that she stood a fair chance against Tarrlok's brother, a no-account lair…

… except she hadn't been able to take him down during any of their previous encounters. She had never once landed a hit on him. He was a formidable and frightening. He was powerful and terrible and even worse, if what Tarrlok told her was true, he was a powerful, powerful blood bender.

Korra slumped in defeat.

 _This was pointless._

She felt like she didn't know anything. All she had to go on were Amon's lies and Tarrlok's memories. So what if Amon was Tarrlok's brother? Did that really change anything about the situation? Of course it didn't change anything! Amon had prepared for everything, covered all his bases… he really was scarred up from an encounter with a fire bender. Being a bender didn't protect anyone from the triads! All Tarrlok's tragic history had told her was that Amon had been a blood bender before he started the revolution and there was no way to confirm anything he said!

She sighed and stared at the opposite wall of her cell. Her brow furrowed, something was bothering her, and she felt like she was on the edge of a breakthrough. If she could just push through the block.

 _Amon had been a blood bender._

She blinked and furrowed her brow.

 _Wait. Was that right?_

Just now she'd been thinking that Amon _had been_ a blood bender… but wasn't he _still_ a blood bender? He had to be, that was why this situation was so awful. All these non-benders at the mercy of a blood bender… It was a really, really bad situation… Everyone was going to suffer…?

Unless he'd traded his bending abilities in the spirit world to become a New Avatar, he'd still be a blood bender, right? So… had he really traded his blood bending for the ability to energy bend his opponents into submission…?

She massaged her forehead as she tried to unravel Amon's web of lies. She felt like she was onto something here… if she could just _figure it out!_

She closed her eyes to try and focus harder. An image flashed before her eyes. Aang, small and young, no more than twelve stood before an imposing Fire Nation man bound by earth. The man breathed fire at Aang, but the young Avatar used his air bending to push through the fire to press one hand on the man's head and another on his heart.

The vision froze as another superseded it. A great and terrible face appeared; immense red eyes stared out from a golden lion-like visage. She could just make out the rise of a great, forested form beyond the face—it was like there was an island on this creature's? —no, this _being's_ back was an island.

A lion turtle.

It spoke in a low, gravelly voice that echoed in her bones. "In the era before the Avatar, we bent not the elements, but the energy within ourselves." The creature reached out and touched her forehead and her heart. She was filled with a great and powerful light that suffused her entire being… "To bend another's energy, your own spirit must be unbendable. Or you will be corrupted and destroyed."

The vision faded and she found herself watching Aang and the Fire Nation man once more. Aang threw back his head and… a light burst forth from his eyes and mouth. The Fire Nation man's eyes began to glow as well, but the light was different—it was bright and orange-red like fire…

The light suffused Aang's body, turning his skin a bright, impossible blue. The man's body began to shine as well, but with the orange light… The glow was so intense it felt like the entire world was divided between the orange, fiery light and the white-blue of the Avatar's light.

Slowly the orange-red energy crept over Aang's body, putting out the blue light. And then, just when it seemed that the fire had swallowed the entire world, Aang's blue light returned. The world was suffused with that radiant, pale blue glow.

And then it was over.

Korra jerked back into awareness. She let out a yelp as she swayed precariously. Her entire body felt strange and unwieldy, like she didn't quite belong in it—everything was in the wrong place. Her hands searched for purchase on the floor to keep herself from falling flat. She was panting like she'd run a marathon.

Tarrlok's voice called to her his cell. "Korra! Are you alright?!"

"Yeah!" She shouted. She took a few deeper breaths and then said it again. "…yeah…" She swallowed hard. "I just need to lie down…"

"What happened?" He sounded concerned.

"I just… I had a bit of a breakthrough, I think."

Tarrlok's voice quieted and his words came quickly; he was clearly curious and excited. "What happened?"

She darted over to the wall and crouched under the opening. If the equalists were listening, she didn't want them to hear everything she told Tarrlok. "I saw Aang and a man from the Fire Nation…" She thought about her vision. That man who'd been energy bent… that had to have been Fire Lord Ozai! "I saw a vision of Aang fighting Fire Lord Ozai and a Lion turtle!" Tarrlok was silent.

After a few tense minutes, Tarrlok spoke again. "What do you think it means?"

Korra began to really process everything. The Fire Lord and Aang in combat, the vision interrupted by another of a lion turtle telling her about… Oh.

 _Oh wow._

"I saw Aang energy bend…" Korra breathed the words in reverent shock.

"You saw Aang… _energy bend_?" Tarrlok sounded confused and uncertain. Maybe he thought she was crazy and making all of it up.

If he did, it was too bad. She didn't have anyone else to talk to so he'd have to hear her out. And if that meant that she'd talk his ear off, bore him out of his mind, and make him think she was crazier than a koala badger… well, too bad for him. She needed a someone to listen to her right now and Tenzin wasn't here. Tarrlok would have to deal with it. "Yes. It was nothing like Amon's technique. And I don't think that any spirit other than a lion turtle can give someone the power to energy bend… to take someone's bending…"

"Wait, wait, wait." Tarrlok was starting to sound like himself again. He was clearly in politician mode. "You're saying that there's an actual kind of bending where you can _bend_ energy?" The disbelief in his voice was clearly audible. "How does that even work?"

Korra wasn't sure how to explain it. "Well, I guess it's like… you bend someone's energy and…" She gave up on explaining it and just told him the important part. "Well, energy bending is how the Avatar was able to remove Fire Lord Ozai's bending and Yakone's."

"I see. And he got it… from a lion turtle?" Tarrlok still sounded doubtful.

Korra felt a little embarrassed at her explanation. Even she thought it was a little outlandish, but the legends did say it was true… not that everyone believed the legends, but, "Yes."

"What does it mean?"

Korra knew that answer to that one. "It means that Amon is a liar. Whatever technique he's using isn't a gift from any spirits. I know what energy bending looks like now and what Amon's doing isn't energy bending."

"Then _how_ is he taking people's bending?" Tarrlok asked.

Korra sighed and let herself roll to lean against the wall as she sagged. "I don't know."

Tarrlok sighed. "Well… I don't know if this information will help us, but…" He paused; she suspected that he was thinking. "Maybe if you can communicate with the other Avatars we'll stand a better chance." He sounded like he wasn't sure it was possible to communicate with the other Avatars, which was kind of strange considering how she'd learned about his father, Yakone. And she'd told him about it. Didn't he already know she could reach back to her previous selves?

Well, she supposed he was only a little less confident her ability to speak to her past lives than she was… "Maybe." It wasn't like she could control the visions; they came at random whether she wanted them or not.

Then Tarrlok said something that took her completely by surprise.

"I'm proud of you."

Korra jerked upright and turned to look over her shoulder. "What?" All she saw was concrete and stone, but she knew he was there, she could hear his voice, and he had to be just as close to the wall as she.

He said it again.

"I'm proud of you."

There was warmth in his voice as he said it and it made her feel warm inside. It was like he was apologizing for when he called her a half-baked Avatar— _she was still pissed about that_ —but this totally made her feel better about being stuck with him.

Oh, _who was she kidding!?_ It made her feel _WAY_ better about the entire situation! She'd spent the morning learning how little faith _anyone_ had in her and how much _everyone_ hated her. She'd spent the entire day feeling like the worst Avatar ever. Like she was the biggest mess up _ever_ and _everyone_ felt that way and _why would her friends even rescue her after a screw up this bad?_

But right now there was at least _one_ person who was proud of her. There was _one_ person who was in the same awful situation and who had—in retrospect—possibly screwed up even worse than she had, who had some faith in her abilities. That little bit of faith, even coming from an enemy meant so much to her…

Korra blinked and blushed a little. She pushed a stray bit of hair out of her face. "Really? Why?"

"This is clearly a sign of improvement and growth. I'm sure it'll help us get out of this situation."

"Thank you." Korra flushed, basking the praise, even if it came from Tarrlok. Her battered ego needed a bit of stroking.

"Why don't you keep meditating? Maybe something more will come to you. I'll try and come up with a plan." Korra thought his suggestion was sound and reasonable.

"Alright." She hummed and leaned back against the wall, feeling much calmer and far more content than she had in quite some time.

She closed her eyes and tried to think back to what she'd been focused on before her conversation with Tarrlok, before her vision…

She'd been trying to unravel Amon's lies, but where had she been in the thought process. Let's see… energy bending. Energy bending had been how Aang took people's bending. Amon was using a different technique. He wasn't energy bending. She knew what energy bending was and what it looked like and Amon was not an energy bender… _no way, no how._

 _Then how was he doing it?_

 _Amon…_

 _Amon and his equalists._

 _Amon and chi-blockers…_

Chi-blockers.

 _No._

It couldn't be that simple! There was no way! If it were that simple, then surely every single chi-blocker would be able to figure it out and pull of the same thing! They'd be up against an army that was fully capable of taking people's bending away!

Korra was on her feet again, pacing the cell. Her head was spinning with the implications.

But if it were a chi-blocking technique, it was a permanent one. But if he were blocking chi…

She turned over what she'd been taught. Okay, more half-taught, since she'd only been half-listening at the time… there'd been that handsome White Lotus guard and she'd been thirteen… And then he'd been suddenly relocated… which had made her very upset at the time… _  
_

 _Focus Korra!_

Chi-blocking was a disruption in the flow of chi through the body… There were chi-points all over the body… Most chi-blocking techniques were non-permanent disruptions of the flow of chi… Chi was a mixture of physical and spiritual energy that acted as the spark for bending in benders… But even non-benders had chi… Chi was energy… It was life-force…

 _Chi was energy._

 _Chi was life-force._

 _That was important._

So… if Amon was permanently blocking a chi-point in the body… say a major chi point, like a point… in the head… kind of in the same vicinity as the mind chakra…

Korra touched her fingers to her forehead like Amon. She thought about the diagrams and what her teachers had taught her. Her eyes widened in sudden comprehension. _  
_

 _That wasn't just near the mind chakra. Her fingers were ON the mind chakra._

 _He was permanently blocking the flow of life-energy through the body._

 _He was blocking a major point on the path of life-energy through the body._

Korra stared straight ahead. She blinked a few times and then turned that thought over one more time. Amon was _permanently_ blocking the flow of life-energy at a major point in the body…

 _That…_

That wasn't just taking away the ability to bend. _That was literally disrupting the flow of energy in the body._ Disrupting the flow of energy in the body could permanently _cripple someone_ ; it could cause horrific illness, mental instability, and, eventually, death.

 _Did Amon know what he was doing?_

He _had_ to know what he was doing.

How could he _not know_ what he was doing?

It probably took years of careful study to perfect a technique that permanently disrupted the flow of chi in the body. You didn't learn to permanently block chi in the body and _not know_ the effects it would have on the intended target.

Sure, it wouldn't kill the target immediately, but over time it would cause long-term damage.

Amon wasn't just taking bending away. He was _killin_ g benders. Not outright, but over time the damage he'd done would take its toll on the bodies of his victims.

She thought of Tahno and how he'd seemed diminished after Amon had finished with him. She thought of her own behavior and how it wasn't quite the same… She was quieter now, more thoughtful… but that might be due to the fact that she couldn't throw a fiery temper-tantrum in her cell, melt the bars, and tear the place apart with her bending. She had nothing to do but think right now. And Tarrlok—he was being _nice_ to her of all things…

Okay.

He wasn't energy bending, but he was doing something pretty close to it.

She walked back to the wall and sat down again.

So. He was creating a permanent chi-block. Next question: _How?_ If she could figure out how he was doing it, then she might be able to reverse engineer the process.

 _And her teachers had said she wasn't half as smart as she liked to think she was!_

She closed her eyes and thought back to the moment he'd taken her bending. He'd taken hold of her neck first. She'd felt a horrible sensation in her head, she'd felt shock and fear and… it was as though every part of her body had been gripped by a thousand invisible hands…

 _'I recognized his blood bending hold.'_

Oh.

 _Oh._

That made sense. So he'd blood bend his targets into position and then…

She thought about what had happened again.

He put his thumb down on her head. The gesture wasn't unlike the one used by Aang to remove Ozai and Yakone's bending… She remembered feeling that something shifted out of alignment within her.

She opened her eyes, frowning hard.

What if he was hitting a chi-point deep _inside_ his intended target? What if he used a combination of blood bending and chi-blocking to perform his little trick?

She glared at the wall.

It was possible that he was _combining_ chi-blocking with blood bending to achieve his end. Unfortunately, all she could do was guess. It wasn't like she could ask him to teach her his big, secret, bending removal technique.

But if what he was doing _wasn't_ energy bending. If all he was doing was blocking a key chi-point… Well, any chi-point could be blocked or unblocked through numerous techniques. It was too bad that she'd left the South before they'd gotten to the 'how to remove energy blocks' lesson—it would have been really, _really_ useful to have that information right now.

Thankfully, Tenzin had been reviewing much of the information with her. The air bender patriarch had always claimed that the spiritual and the physical were connected and that there was a powerful spiritual aspect to bending. And then he'd start in on how 'that which is true in the physical is also true in the spiritual and that which is true in the spiritual is also true in the physical… the two worlds reflect each other… the point is that if you affect one side, you affect the other… Korra are you listening?'

She let out a small huff at the memory. He'd been pretty angry about her lack of attentiveness that day. But she'd been listening!

 _Kind of…_

So the physical impacted the spiritual and the spiritual impacted the physical? In that case, maybe if she meditated and undid the block on the spiritual level, she could recover her abilities?

Korra briefly considered telling Tarrlok her plan, but then decided against it. She didn't want to get his hopes up about getting his bending back. She also didn't trust him yet—even if she really, really liked it when he told her how awesome she was.

She settled into a meditative pose, closed her eyes and reached for her bending. She refused to believe her abilities were gone forever, not when some not-even-half-baked _fake_ Avatar had been the one to take it away. Unfortunately, she wasn't really sure where to look for her bending, it'd always been right there, on the surface for as long as she could remember.

Now she had to go and find the source of her bending without any trail to follow.

When she reached inside of herself and searched, really searched, she found nothing. She couldn't feel hardness of earth and rock. She had no sense of the flow of water. The raging fire within her had gone out.

Maybe her bending really was gone for good?

She tried to reach further, she felt as though she were straining herself. Then she felt… _something_ … or maybe _nothing_ … She wasn't sure how to describe it, but she'd never felt anything like it before, it was like a hard, cold, darkness stretching out before her. She wasn't sure this had been here before…

Something shifted on the edge of her awareness, something new. There was a dry, almost insubstantial quickness darting near the edge of the dark void in her mind's eye. She focused on it and felt a flicker like quicksilver darting in and out of her consciousness.

She reached for it, trying to catch it, but it slipped away like… like…

 _Air._

She could barely contain her grin of triumph. She opened her eyes and held out her hand. She called it forth, letting the sensation move through her arm to her fingertips with gentleness and precision she hadn't known she possessed.

A small sphere of wind appeared in her outstretched hand. "A leaf on the wind." She breathed the words with reverence.

She lowered her hand to the floor and changed the direction of the small breeze she'd created, watching, as it became a small dust devil there, picking up small bits of dirt and tossing them wildly. "He blocked earth, fire, and water, but not air." Her soft murmuring went unheard.

She felt her strength and confidence return. This fight wasn't over yet. She still had one element left. She could still fight.

She pulled herself to her feet. Fully intending to blast her way through everything in her path with her one, remaining element. She pulled back her fist and stopped dead…

There were two problems with her 'plan.' The first was that air would do absolutely nothing to the iron bars or stone. She'd just be advertising that she had that power. If she was going to blast her way out, better to do it when there were people she could take out… or steal keys from… or something… But then, there was the other thing…

Korra relaxed her stance and went to sit on the hardened shelf that passed for a bed in her cell.

The last few times she'd used her elements and gone blasting her way into and out of a situation, everything had gone horribly. At this point, she really couldn't afford another mistake. She only had one element left and it wasn't an element she was particularly familiar with, if Amon caught her she'd lose all her bending abilities and that'd leave her even worse off than now.

Korra grimaced. She had to keep her head down. She'd gotten into this mess by charging in and acting like a fire bender, or an earth bender, or a water bender. If she wanted to get out of this, she'd have to start acting like an air bender, like Aang. And she needed to escape. She had a destiny to fulfill as the Avatar.

She drew in a heavy breath and told herself to be patient. She had to wait for the right time and she had to trust that she'd know the right time when it came. And maybe she'd get some help from her friends…

 _Her friends…_

She sat up suddenly and said, "My friends will come for me." The realization hit her like a ton of bricks. She wasn't sure if the thought made her happy, or if it frightened her. What if her friends did come for her and got caught? Mako and Bolin would lose their bending. Asami's father would probably take his daughter prisoner.

And then there was Tenzin and Lin… who would be risking their bending and their lives to save her from her own stupidity…

Tarrlok's voice broke into her thoughts. "You're right. Your friends _will_ come for you." There was a note of grim distress in his voice. She realized that he was afraid. He would be judged for his crimes against her and against the city. They might choose to leave him behind.

Unfortunately, she really couldn't be bothered worrying about him right now, because the list of people who would inevitably try to free her just seemed to get longer and longer… "And so will my family and the White Lotus."

"The White Lotus, yes," Tarrlok agreed. "But what can your family possibly do against Amon?"

Korra slumped and thought about her parents. Her father would probably charge in and lose his bending immediately and her mother wasn't a bender at all… so she'd probably be fine. In the end they'd be captured and used as leverage to make her go along with Amon's plans. And what could her uncle possibly do to help? He wasn't exactly a fighter…

She rolled down to stretch her body out on the hard cot. "Not much probably."

[] [] []

Chief Unalaq was enjoying a leisurely stroll through his ice garden while he considered his carefully laid plans for opening up the portals to the Spirit World and unleashing the great spirit of Darkness and Chaos. So far, everything was going according to plan. He'd spent years carefully laying the groundwork with Korra so that she trusted him and liked him and would not tell her father about the letters they'd been exchanging since her tenth birthday.

He was rather certain that he had enough ammunition at this point to remove Tenzin from the coveted position of Spiritual guide to the Avatar and take that desirable position for himself. But the most important thing was making sure that Korra would be able to attend the next Solstice festival in the South Pole and open the gate. Once the Southern Gate was open, he was sure that he could easily talk her into opening the Northern Gate.

From there it was a simple matter of getting her to make an appearance during Harmonic Convergence, ripping Raava from her body, and destroying the spirit of light. He'd kill his dear, stupid niece, unleash and merge with Vaatu, and then he'd tear the world to shreds. He'd start with his family—Tonraq was at the top of his list, followed by Senna, and then he'd kill his frigid wife, Malina. Their deaths would be swift, but hardly painless. In the end, he felt their souls would be grateful. They would not want to live to see what he would do to those who survived his initial cleansing.

He smiled serenely as he stared at a particularly pleasing ice sculpture.

 _Everything was going according the plan.  
_

 _Except…_

He frowned. There was just one, small item of concern. Korra had gone missing. Apparently his appointed representative, Tarrlok, was a blood bender and had captured her. At this time, his young niece's whereabouts and status were unknown. If something happened to her it could set his plans back by months. He could not afford delays, the timeline for Harmonic Convergence was rather inflexible.

He was mostly certain that the situation wasn't anything to worry about. Elite White Lotus guards, trained from a young age to protect the young Avatar from harm, were scouring the city for Korra. But then, he hadn't heard anything good recently. The Avatar had not been recovered and he was becoming increasingly concerned. If this was not resolved in a satisfactory manner, he might be forced to act. If he acted prematurely, he risked exposure, but…

A special court messenger, the one that received information directly from his agents hidden among the White Lotus, interrupted his musings. "Sire!"

"Yes?" Unalaq took a seat on a bench that overlooked the lower ice gardens. "Do we have any news about the Avatar or her whereabouts?" he asked.

The messenger nodded and dropped to his knees to give his report. "Sire, the Avatar has been captured by the equalists. Her bending has been taken and Amon has named himself the New Avatar. She has been publicly denounced and humiliated."

Unalaq's expression remained perfectly calm. He looked out over the expanse of beautifully carved ice. "The Avatar has been captured by equalists and her bending has been taken." He repeated the words slowly, as if tasting them. His mouth twisted in mild disgust. "Amon has named himself the New Avatar..."

He drew in a long, steadying breath, and let it out slowly. "Is there anything else?" he asked.

The messenger proceeded to tell him everything. Unalaq learned about the desperate, but futile efforts of Tenzin, the repeated failures to recover the Avatar and Tarrlok, the radio broadcast of the Avatar's public humiliation by the equalists as a prisoner… Through it all, Unalaq's expression remained calmly concerned, his brow only furrowing a little and the corners of his mouth twisting downward only slightly.

When the messenger was done relaying what he knew, Unalaq sent him away so that he could think over everything that he'd learned.

Unalaq sat back and took in the view of his garden again, but he wasn't really paying the slightest attention to the icy beauty that surrounded him. He was blind, even to the beautiful glow that that the ice took on as it was suffused the midafternoon sun and its hidden blues and yellows and pinks were drawn out to shine with an ethereal radiance. He was entirely focused on the major obstruction to his ascent to destructive godhood.

So.

The leader of The Most Ridiculous Revolution had somehow managed to seize the Avatar, the key to Unalaq's ultimate triumph. And he'd somehow managed to strip the young Avatar of her powers. And they were probably causing his niece irreparable psychological harm that would likely prevent any chance of her recovery.

He drew a shuddering breath and let his fingers clench in his robes.

Tarrlok had told him about the uprising of the non-benders. His representative on the council had kept the Northern Chief abreast of the situation and the progress of the anti-bending activists. Unalaq had urged his protégé to violently crush the uprising and cleanse the city. He'd even subtly promised the councilman unrestricted access to Korra—without naming her of course—on the condition of his success in putting down the revolution.

Tarrlok had failed him spectacularly. Not only had he endangered Avatar Korra—who was key to Unalaq's endgame—he'd managed to draw attention to his unique abilities—abilities that Tarrlok had somehow managed to hide from everyone, including Unalaq—in a highly incriminating manner. And it had all come together to ensure that the equalists were able to capture Korra, take her bending, and use her as a hostage in their efforts to change the world.

Unalaq sat back and closed his eyes. He could feel the beginnings of a headache coming on. He took several deep breathes to soothe his rapidly rising ire.

If he'd known that Tarrlok was a blood bender of such astounding ability, Unalaq would never have let the ambitious young man leave the North. He'd have kept Tarrlok close and ensured his absolute loyalty and commitment by giving him an excellent situation. Having a loyal blood bender on hand would have been a boon… something that no one would have been prepared for, least of all Tonraq and the White Lotus. It would have made the removal of countless obstacles so much easier if he'd had a specimen like Tarrlok completely under his sway.

 _But perhaps there was still a chance he could get his hands on the prodigious water bender..._

If Tarrlok survived his imprisonment with the equalists, Unalaq would ensure the councilman's safe return to the North for long-term incarceration. Once Tarrlok was in his power he would make a deal with him. He knew that the young councilman would be grateful for his careful and very secret removal from the prison and would look to his mentor and savior for guidance. The blood bending politician would make a potent and powerful ally.

But… that eventuality would only be explored _after_ Unalaq ensured the safety of his niece, Avatar Korra.

It was easy to focus on Tarrlok, because recovering and controlling Tarrlok would be easy. The young Avatar would be another matter. The equalists would not part with their precious hostage easily and it would be incredibly difficult to recover her from the revolutionaries without using unjustified extreme force…

It would be difficult, perhaps impossible.

Impossible… Ah, that word.

Unalaq considered how impossible his situation had been when he was young. He'd been the younger, sickly child of chief who clearly favored his eldest. He had no chance at the throne... or at least that's what everyone had believed. It had taken years, but over time and with the careful manipulation of words over countless conversations, Unalaq had been able to undermine Tonraq's popularity and managed to reframe his brother's successes as failures. Yes, it'd taken time, money, and careful planning to remove his brother from his enviable position as crown prince.

And then, after Tonraq was gone, it'd seemed unlikely that Unalaq would ever have the opportunity to sit upon the throne. Their father was quick to consider forgiving his eldest son... so Unalaq had needed to remove his father as well. It had taken time and careful consideration to select the right poison—an uncommon venom that could only be found in the deep reaches of the Southern Fire Nations forests. He'd spent months setting his father against the one person on the high council who could procure the venom—a man who had, conveniently, opposed the banishment of Tonraq…

Unalaq sighed and smiled to himself. He'd done quite a lot in his life to secure a position of near absolute power in the North. He'd intended to be well situated for the birth of the new Avatar. Even before he'd sought political power, he'd cultivated his spiritual ability and established himself as a spiritualist and leader worthy of potentially training the young Avatar.

Tenzin had, of course, aggressively blocked his efforts to gain entry into the inner circle of the White Lotus. The air bender patriarch hadn't trusted him and Unalaq's efforts to win Tenzin over had failed spectacularly. To this day, Aang's son remained as wary of the Northern Water Tribe Chief as ever and Unalaq had despaired, fearing that he would never have access to the new Avatar.

It had been a stroke of inconceivable luck when the Avatar was born into his family. He'd never dared to dream he would be so stupendously fortunate. Tenzin and Tonraq had denied him the right to educate his niece, but as a member of the Avatar's family he was given far more access than he might have otherwise been allowed. Being the favorite uncle to the rambunctious, little Korra had been a blessing from the spirits.

He'd even been able to exert some influence over the young girl, carefully planting seeds of his knowledge in her head. Their frequent correspondence helped him keep careful track of her progress with Tenzin. He was, of course, always careful to withhold what he knew in order to build up her curiosity.

Of course, no one could know that he was the Avatar's uncle. He was forbidden from using her name and authority to extend his power, but that suited Unalaq just fine. He didn't need to use the Avatar's name and authority to increase his influence. He was only interested in earthly power as a means to extending his spiritual authority.

He'd done all of this. The world had given the Avatar to him through her birth into his family. He finally had everything in place to overthrow the Avatar and cast the world into chaos, only to be blocked by an upstart? A non-bender revolutionary who dreamed of a world without bending?

Harmonic Convergence was only a year or so away. If Korra lost her abilities, she might not be able to open the gates. Unalaq's efforts would be rendered utterly pointless. If Korra died, the next Avatar would be born into the Earth Kingdom. It would be years before the next Avatar would be ready to open the gates to the spirit world. By then, Harmonic Convergence would be long past. Worse still, the next Avatar would be under stricter protection than Korra—he would not be allowed near the child.

He clenched his fist in his robes.

Unalaq needed Korra alive and whole for his plan to succeed. He also required complete control over her in the coming months to assure her safety and prevent further interruptions. The new question was: _how could he achieve that end in light of these new developments?_

What did the leader of the troublesome, yet farcical 'equalist' revolution want? What did Amon want more than anything else?

The Northern Water Tribe Chief considered what he'd been told about Amon.

Amon claimed to be trying to create a world of total equality, where there were no benders and non-benders. He claimed to have the power to remove someone's bending permanently and Korra believed him—having seen his power. And he wanted to start his brave new world in Republic City.

Unalaq looked up at the clouds that were passing overhead.

When he'd first heard about Amon, Unalaq had decided that the revolutionary leader was either a complete idiot or a brilliant showman and manipulative mastermind. Tarrlok had quickly com to the same conclusion over the course of their correspondence. The councilman had also realized that while both could be equally dangerous, it was far more likely that Amon was a showman and mastermind than an idealistic fool. Unalaq agreed with his assessment.

At first the likelihood of Amon being a fool had seemed quite high. The man spoke passionately of ideologies that appealed to the downtrodden, helpless, and desperate. He made promises that were not within his power to keep—there was no way that one man could remove every single bender in the entire world. Amon even surrounded himself with true believers and zealots who would serve him with utmost loyalty and feed his delusions... Typical of an idealist who was drunk on his own dreams.

Even the mask he allegedly wore seemed to suggest a blind and naive optimism. As long as Amon wore the mask the revolution would always be assured a leader. If he died, another could take his place simply by picking up the mask and continuing his work. With his face hidden, Amon could be anyone and, through the mask, he came to represent the masses that flocked to his speeches again and again.

As things progressed, however, the true nature of the situation had become increasingly apparent. Yes, Amon surrounded himself with zealots who would serve him with blind devotion and feed his zealotry. Yes, he wore a mask to seemingly suggest that he was a cog in the wheel to give his ideology an unending legacy… But then he'd gone and 'demonstrated' the ability to remove people's bending.

Unalaq hadn't been prepared to believe for a second that Amon could remove someone's bending—no matter what Korra had seen. It had taken Tarrlok's confirmation to convince him that the equalist leader had developed a method to remove someone's bending. But even Tarrlok's affirmations weren't enough to convince Unalaq that the equalist leader had the power to permanently remove a bender's abilities.

 _But then..._

Amon claimed that he'd been named the New Avatar by the spirits and that they'd given him the power to 'cleanse' people of their bending abilities. Such a claim bordered on ridiculous. After all, Unalaq knew that most spirits would not directly attack or cause grievous harm to the Avatar without provocation. Only the oldest and most powerful spirits would even dream of committing such an act. And those elder spirits who despised the Avatar were few and far between. Unalaq could count their number on one hand.

The two most likely candidates were Ko and Vaatu. Unalaq knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Vaatu remained imprisoned and he suspected that only Ko would display himself boldly and blunder about—after all, Ko was a spirit that wanted to be seen. And the mask was something that Ko would revel in wearing… But would Ko really pursue the Avatar again? So soon? Then there was the troubling aspect about this supposed 'ability to remove bending', only the lion turtles held the ability to give and take bending. And the ancient ones knew what the Avatar was and would _never_ give anyone the power to act against the Avatar…

Unalaq knew that. He'd tried to sway them to offer him similar power some years ago...

But the lion turtles were smarter than Wan Shi Tong...

Whatever Amon's trick was, it wasn't a gift from any spirits. But he'd put on quite a show to display his abilities and prove to the world that he was powerful. He'd fooled Korra, but fooling a young woman who'd never left the safety of her home before was hardly impressive. And for all of Tarrlok's evidence, none could prove that Amon's technique was permanent…

No, Unalaq was not so easily fooled by Amon's grand displays. He would not be bamboozled by a cheap charlatan. Especially not one with enough savvy to pick his battles with such care and efficiency.

Republic City really was the perfect place to start an international conflict. No one wanted to destroy the Avatar's beloved city, the police force—though formidable—was overconfident in its abilities and had let things slide for too long, and the United Forces, while certainly the most technologically advanced army in the world, weren't the most well-trained or organized military. The United Forces were grossly unprepared to face a threat of Amon's magnitude on the home front. All Amon had to do was remove the metal bending police and the council and the city would fall easily.

And then there was the fact that Amon was probably, very purposefully, baiting the Earth Queen. There wasn't a leader in the world that did not know that the Queen of Ba Sing Se coveted the New Republic. Amon's threats and efforts to take Republic City had her complete attention and Unalaq suspected that Amon knew that the Earth Queen would let him play his hand…

But the Earth Queen was a woman who enjoyed vulgar displays of power. She'd tactlessly tossed her weight around in international politics for decades and had become the most despised leader in the world. And if she thought she had a chance at taking back the United Republic, she'd take that chance without a second thought.

Of course that dumb bitch had no mind for tactics or strategy, preferring brute force over cunning in any and every conflict. Unalaq was willing to bet that Amon was counting on her hubris. The equalist leader was waiting for her to attack the United Republic as soon as the United Forces failed to retake the city. Of course, by the time her forces arrived Amon's armies would be fully equipped with an arsenal of anti-bender weapons to take out her army.

And after the equalists demolished the Eath Kingdom Army, Amon and his forces would be ready to take Ba Sing Se.

Throughout this entire struggle, Amon would need control over the Avatar. The equalist leader would need her in his power and afraid of him. She would be his hostage and the most effective means of inspiring fear throughout the world.

After all, the man who destroyed the Avatar was the most feared man in the world.

Amon couldn't afford to kill Korra until he had the Earth Kingdom under equalist rule. Even after that, the loss of the Avatar would be a huge risk. There was no guarantee that he'd be able to locate the next Avatar while trying to control the vast expanse the Earth continent...

Of course... Unalaq was assuming that Amon was a brilliant mastermind. It was still entirely possible that the equalist leader was a dumb idealist who'd managed to put himself in the perfect position to take over the Earth Kingdom through sheer dumb luck...

Unalaq let out a long sigh. He watched the heat of his breath cloud the air before him.

There was unfortunately, still a chance that Amon really was a fool. It was possible that the idiot had managed to hoodwink Tarrlok and that he'd ruin everything by executing Korra tomorrow at dawn...

Of course, if Amon were a brilliant mastermind, then he'd be playing a long-term game. That meant that the equalist leader would need to maintain complete and absolute power over the Avatar for decades. And that was hardly an ideal outcome...

So.

If Unalaq assumed that Amon was a mastermind and needed to maintain complete control over Korra for his revolution, then how did Unalaq recover Korra in order to carry out his own plans of becoming the Dark Avatar and purging the world?

Unalaq let out another heavy sigh.

The only thing he could think of was a show of exceptionally brutal force. And really, it was the perfect time for such a display. The Avatar was in grievous danger. If Unalaq saved her from the equalists he'd be able to discredit both Tenzin and the White Lotus. Once that was done, it'd be nothing to install himself as the great protector of the Avatar. After all, he'd have proved himself a more capable protector than his rivals...

Unfortunately, he didn't have due cause to strike out at the equalists with exceptional force. They hadn't made a move against the Northern or Southern Tribe, so this wasn't really his fight. And even if this was an attack on the Avatar, his position had to remain as neutral as possible, particularly because he was her uncle. The Avatar wasn't supposed to have favorites after all...

As a leader, he'd only be expected to offer a small portion of his forces to the struggle and act as a military advisor beside the other international leaders. Yes, the equalists had taken the his niece and dishonored her, but _Korra was the Avatar_. Even with her bending gone, the Avatar was more than a mere man or woman, he or she existed as the embodiment of light and balance in the world. The Avatar was the bridge between the human world and the spirit world. And he could not make this fight into a personal and highly political grievance as long as she maintained her powers. Everyone knew that.

 _Well, everyone who bothered to study the old texts knew that…  
_

And only those privileged enough to be welcomed into the ranks of the inner circle of the White Lotus, or those who sought out the hidden Red Lotus, or those who were of a particularly spiritual nature and able to convince Wan Shi Tong to share his secrets could gain access to those texts.

And even then, you had to ask the right questions of the right people to learn the truth.

 _Which meant that perhaps only a fraction of a percent of the world's population was aware of or even understood the true nature of the Avatar…_

…

 _Ah hah._

Unalaq rose to his feet.

Hadn't the equalists claimed that Amon had taken her bending abilities? While those were hardly the most significant abilities held by the Avatar, they were the most readily known. The Avatar's status and power as a bridge between the human and spirit world was virtually forgotten. Even those who had heard the words barely understood what they meant. For the vast majority of the population, Korra's loss of bending symbolized the end of the Avatar line.

With her bending gone, the common people would no longer see Korra as the Avatar. And as long as Korra had held the title of Avatar in the eyes of the people, no other title or expectation could come before it. Nothing else about Korra really mattered.

Her sex was meaningless, for no expectations of femininity could be heaped upon a warrior whose destiny was to bring balance to the world by any means possible. The Avatar could never be treated as a normal woman. Even the status of her relatives had no meaning. She could be the daughter of the Imperial Dynasty of the Earth King or she could be the child of paupers. In the end, it all meant nothing.

The Avatar was the Avatar above all else.

 _But…_

Once her status as Avatar was removed, Korra's status reverted to that of her birth: and Korra was the daughter of the exiled prince of the Northern Water Tribe, the niece to Unalaq, Chief of the Northern Water Tribe, and Granddaughter by her mother to Chief Sokka of the South. She was a princess without a nation who had ties to two of the most influential men in the North and a famous hero of the South. Her royal blood and sex now took precedence over everything else from this point forward. And there were some delightful old traditions about what should be done to an enemy that kidnapped and despoiled a Water Tribe princess.

Unalaq didn't bother to fight the broad, incredibly pleased smile the spread across his face. He was so happy that Korra's status as his niece had been kept from the world. He was so relieved that his father, the old chauvinistic bastard, hadn't bothered to strike the old traditions from the law books. He was so relieved that he'd built up a loyal council of war hawks and old, superstitious hunters who valued honor and male authority over international peace.

He stood, calmly folded his hands behind his back and made his way back to his castle. He'd call a council meeting tonight and reveal what he'd learned. Then he'd disclose his intentions. Then, he'd tell them the truth of Korra's parentage. A few would resist, but he'd placate them with the offer of a short missive that would give the equalists due warning to comply…

And when the missive came late in the night after, say, a key victory against the under-trained, understaffed United Forces… Well, no one would be able deny that he'd given the revolutionaries a chance to hand over the young Water Tribe princess. There would be a _Blood War_ and when it was over, he would take the Avatar back to the North and she would remain within his power—as was the right of the one who protected the honor of a Water Tribe princess.

 _And then everything would go according to plan._

[] [] []

A telegram came through late in the evening, several hours after a major victory against the United Forces. The young equalist who took the message wasn't sure what to make of it. So she immediately brought it to the most senior authority figure she could find. Her immediate superiors were celebrating their recent triumph. And since Amon was busy discussing plans with his lieutenant, the highest -ranking person she could find was an inebriated Hiroshi Sato.

The young woman tried to explain her concerns to Mr. Sato, but she was brushed aside. Sato was in a bad way that night. The victory had given him an excuse to indulge in liquor—something he'd avoided for a long time after he joined the equalist movement. Liquor made him angry and resentful and at that moment he was resenting the fact that his daughter wasn't beside him, celebrating the triumph over the people who'd killed his wife.

He wasn't angry with Asami. It wasn't her fault. She'd been misled. But he couldn't think of anyone on hand that he could blame for her betrayal except maybe the young ex-Avatar. Unfortunately, he couldn't come up with a reasonable excuse to go to her cell and beat her within an inch of her life.

 _Not that he really needed one, but an explanation might be in order after and he'd probably need a good one if he wanted to get away with it…_

Sato plucked the message from the young equalist's quivering hands and skimmed it, barely taking in its contents. What he gathered was that some Northern Water Tribe bender was trying to throw his weight around and force the equalists to 'surrender the Avatar' to them.

Sato started laughing loudly as soon as he'd finished reading. Here it was, he thought, the perfect excuse to go and visit the ex-Avatar. He even had something he could use to hurt her—a missive from a Northern relative. The analogy was perfect. She'd taken his daughter from him. He would make sure that she never got to see anyone in her vile bender family ever again.

Without further thought, he stood and marched to where the ex-Avatar and the ex-blood bending councilman were being held. He arrived just in time to disrupt a small group of equalists who were debating the amount of trouble they'd be in if anything happened to the ex-Avatar. More than a few were certain that it would be very bad if they were caught—and they would be caught. _Everyone_ would know what they'd done. The others were certain that the fate of a young, female ex-bender was unimportant—and they were in need of comfort and a warm body in order _really celebrate_.

The group scattered upon Sato's arrival. Only the most daring and opportunistic remained behind to escort Sato in to see the ex-Avatar. Since he was drunk, they were certain they'd be able to pin everything on him if the young woman tried to complain. They might even get away with it.

Sato opened the door to the holding cells where the ex-Avatar and the blood bending councilman were kept. He strode in confidently, if unsteadily. The wealthy equalist industrialist announced himself. "Avatar." Sato chuckled. "Or should I say ex-Avatar?"

The young woman was seated against the divider wall. The councilman was seated similarly. Both looked worse for wear, but there was a steady determination in their eyes. They were clearly unafraid of Sato.

The councilman spoke before the ex-Avatar had a chance. He glared up at Sato with icy, baleful eyes. "What do you want, Sato?"

Sato slammed his electric-gloved hand against the bars and made them glow. "Quiet, blood bender!" The jolt of the electricity sent the imprisoned man reeling away from the bars, stunned by the threat of such extreme violence.

The ex-Avatar stood up and approached the bars. She still stood tall and strong, unbent from the humiliation that had been heaped upon her only last week. "Mr. Sato? What do you want?" There was calm hope in her gaze.

Sato hated her.

He grabbed the bar and pulled himself close until his face was almost pressed between the gaps in the bars. "You will call me, 'Sir!' You vile bending brat!" He snarled the word with undisguised rage.

She pulled back at his rage, but then rephrased her question and drew closer to the bars. "What is it, sir?"

Sato withdrew the slip of paper and waved it smugly in front of the bars. "We just got a message from one of your relatives in the north."

The girl's eyes widened and darted eagerly between the slip of paper and the flushed face of Hiroshi Sato. "What did it say, sir?" she asked, indulging the drunken industrialist in his inebriated fancies in exchange for news from home.

Sato laughed madly. "It demanded your immediate release." He then pointedly crumpled the note in his hand, crushing something he knew to be precious to young woman. "On pain of action!"

The girl frowned in confusion, but the councilman beat her to the question. "What kind of action?" The councilman had drawn right up to the front of his cell. He was curious about the conversation at hand. His gaze darted between Sato, the missive and what he could see of Korra from his position.

Sato slammed his hand against the bars again, electrifying them. "Didn't I tell you to shut up!?"

The councilman jerked his hands away from the bars, before he could be electrocuted and stared at Sato resentfully. The industrialist giggled gleefully at the sight of a bender cowering before him. It was as good as he'd always dreamed.

The ex-Avatar, however, reclaimed his attention. "What kind of action, sir?" She was being very agreeable and polite, but that was only because the bitch had no other choice.

Nevertheless, the question threw him off. He hadn't thought she'd ask about the contents. Sato belched and stared blearily at the piece of paper. He tried to remember what it had said. "Something about honor and dire consequences or something…" It was all that came to mind. Reading small words wasn't easy right now. He laughed. "It doesn't matter! What matters is that you are never, ever going to see your family again!" He crowed the words with insane delight.

The girl jerked back in confusion and surprise. "What?"

"See!" he cried, pointing at the ex-Avatar. "You see Avatar! You took my Asami away from me! You corrupted her, you and that filthy fire bending street-rat!" She'd understand his brilliance once he explained it to her. She really wasn't that smart, after all. "You took my only family away and now…" He panted in wild excitement and laughed again, holding the note high overhead. "Now I'm going to take yours away from you!"

The girl must have realized what he was going to do. She lunged forward, reaching for the note. "Wait! _No!_ "

Sato activated his glove and the piece of paper ignited. It was reduced to ash in seconds. "You see, Avatar! Here's what I think of your relatives and their foolish belief that the Equalist Revolution will be moved by bending cowards and bullies and murderers!" He cast the ash at her; she let out a cry and jerked back. He grabbed the bars of her cell then and leaned in close. _"You will not be released! You will pay for your crimes against the non-benders of the world!"_ Sato felt triumphant. He felt so powerful. Finally. Finally, after all these years, the benders were getting what was coming to them!

The Avatar stood before him, defiant as ever. "I never did _anything_ to hurt any non-benders! _I_ _defended them_ _when they were attacked_ , _I was trying to protect them!_ " She glared at him, as though it would make him see that she was right. And then she said something that made him see red. _"Why are you punishing everyone else for the actions of one person!?"_

Distantly, Sato heard the voice of the councilman call out. " _Korra, you can't reason with him right now, he's drunk!"_

 _"SILENCE!"_ Sato electrocuted the bars of the Avatar's cell. " _You're not allowed to talk! You're not allowed to say anything!_ You _deserve this_ you _murderous bitch!_ " He let the electricity fade as he advanced on her, pressing his face and body right up against the bars and snaking his hand into the cell, reaching for her.

The young ex-Avatar backed up until she was pressed against the back-wall of the cell. He could see the way she cowered, her body tensed to flee, but she had nowhere left to run. She stared at Sato as though she'd never seen him before in her life. As if she were staring into the face of a monster.

 _Oh…_

 _Oh if he could get in there…_

 _If he could just get into her cell… he'd show her a monster…_

 _He'd show her exactly what he was capable and he'd teach her to attack non-benders and corrupt young girls. By the time he was done with her, she'd be lucky to be alive._

But then, what was stopping him?

His breathing became wild and labored as he made his way to the door of her cell. His hands gripped the bars trying to find purchase. "A key!" He called to the young equalists who were in the room with him. "Give me a key, I'm going to teach this… _this whore_ a lesson she'll never forget."

He could hear a voice in the background, screaming at him. Howling desperately at him to stop. Telling him to leave the girl alone, to come at the councilman, the blood bender, trying to provoke him into turning away from the girl. But it was all a dull hum of background noise to Hiroshi as he struggled with the key to open the cell. The voice started yelling for help.

"Sato! What are you doing?" The lieutenant's voice was like the crack of a whip, pulling Hiroshi violently from his dark, desperate, and angry musings.

"Lieutenant!" Sato jerked away from the door to the ex-Avatar's cell. The keys tumbled from his grip and onto the floor.

 _What had he been about to do?_

Sato blinked and his eyes darted this way and that as he tried to gather his now scattered thoughts. He turned to meet the gaze of the solemn man who lived and breathed the equalist ideology—the right hand of Amon. "I was just making it clear to our prisoner that she'd never see her family again. That she'd be separated them forever, just like with my wife and daughter are from me."

The lieutenant approached and plucked the keys from the ground. "What brought this on?" He asked in a voice so calm that it could only be hiding great anger.

Before Sato could answer, the young equalist who'd brought Sato the missive jumped in. "There was a missive from the North. They were demanding her immediate release on pain of dire consequences…" She hesitated for a moment, but then she voiced her fear. "I… I think they were threatening war, sir."

The lieutenant was taken aback by the young woman's words. "What?" He turned to Sato and snarled. "Where is this missive?"

Once again, Sato had no time to respond. One of the other equalist soldiers responded for him. "Sato destroyed it, sir."

Sato tried to explain himself. "She _had to_ know what it's like. She _deserves_ to know what it's like."

The lieutenant took Sato firmly by the arm. "Come on, Sato." He turned to the rest of the assembled group. "These are valuable and highly influential prisoners. If anything happens to them we could lose our legitimacy in the eyes of the Four Nations. No one is allowed in or out of this room unless the order comes from Amon or myself from here on out."

The equalists nodded and they quickly fled the room. The lieutenant took his leave with Sato once the rest had already exited. He stopped at the door to sneer at the prisoners.

[] [] []

Once they were alone again, Tarrlok darted to the dividing wall. He scrambled to try and find the small opening between their cells. The darkness and shadows concealed it. "Korra?! Korra are you alright?!"

His only response was a sob.

She was distressed, probably terrified after Sato's display of aggression and violence. The industrialist's harsh words had probably struck a chord with her. She'd been mulling over family and friends all day, wondering what would become of them if they came to save her...

And Sato had just cruelly burnt a message from her family and informed her that she'd never see them again...

But there was something that worried him. A missive? On a night like this? Blood and honor? Threats?

 _What the hell was going on?_

 _Who the hell was she related to?_

He pressed himself against the wall and asked, "Korra, who are you related to in the North?"

The girl let out a tearful, shuddering gasp. "It doesn't matter!" she cried. "None of it matters! I'm never going to see my family ever again! I should have never left the South Pole!"

"Korra…" He tried to comfort her, but his attempts did nothing to sooth the distraught young Avatar. Sato's efforts to hurt her had been incredibly successful.

[] [] [] End Chapter 3 [] [] []

And One More Thing: _**AMON THE EDGE OF SOMETHING BIG**_


	4. Appearances

**Guest 1A:** You reached out to me on October 7. I'm glad you like my plans for Amon's past :3. And yeah, Korra's in a bad place... and it's not her fault and she really doesn't have a clue what's going on. It'll be fun to see her come into her own. As for missives and things... well, it's going to get fun.

 **Azula:** I'm glad you're enjoying it. As for readership... I'm staying positive.

 **Guest 1B:** You reached out to me on October 16. I'm glad you're enjoying it. I'm currently working on putting out A LOT more.

 **Guest 1C:** You reached out to me on October 16. Funny you should ask about Senna's past and the Red Lotus... To answer your question there will be more on Senna's past.

 **0BreAdCruMbS0:** _Regarding Strategic Battles-_ Amon's entire strategy rests on the fact that he's holding an entire city hostage. No one wants to blow up their homes, places of business, and families. So of course the United Forces are crippled and unable to launch a full-scale attack. That's why they got their butts kicked in the series. Unalaq, however, is Unalaq. And Unalaq does particularly like Republic City...  
 _Regarding Korra's Thinking-_ Any anomalies in Korra's behavior may be chalked up to the fact that when your Mind Chakra gets blocked, your personality and outlook on life can change drastically... We'll be seeing more of the impact of a block on both Korra and Tarrlok in Part 2.  
 _Regarding Updates-_ TBH, I've only got five chapters (the entirety of Part 1) 'FINALIZED' and I'm working on building up a buffer for Part 2 (5 to 10 Chapters, 15 if I'm optimistic). And I only post when I'm happy with what I've got. I'm aiming to start releasing Part 2 in late January, early February.

 **Some General Information:** I have planned Equal Measure through Season 3 of Korra. So I do have Red Lotus stuff set down already. They're referenced in Parts 1 and 2. I have Zaheer making an appearance in Part 3. But Season 3 only really kicks off in Part 7 (Parts 2 through 4 take up the 6 month time skip, Season 2=Part 5, and those two weeks between Season 2 and 3 are going to be a VERY important adjustment period for _some_ characters-so that's Part 6).

Season 4 is still up in the air. I want to address Kuvira and have a bit of fun with her, but depending on how Part 7 plays out (because I am fully able to change my mind about how things go at this point) it's possible that she never really steps up to become a major antagonist. And as important as Season 4 was for Korra's development in the LoK series, the stuff I have down for Parts 2 and 3 really cover a lot of that same ground. I'm not interested in rehashing those themes. This is compounded by the fact that Korra isn't exactly going to be in the same state that she was in at the end of Season 3... so... totally different direction...

On a final note. This chapter starts off a little weird, but I'm laying some groundwork for some stuff that's going to go down in Part 5.

 **Part 1: Intrigue**  
 **Act 2: Family Matters**  
 **Chapter 4: Appearances**

 **A/N:** _They can be deceiving..._

 _ **Trigger Warning: for discussion of abusive intentions and psychological torture**_

His world was rendered in black and white. There was no shade or tone to lend the area any sense of definition or depth. White dominated the space, making the unknown place seem infinite. He looked around, trying to make sense of his surroundings. If he focused, he thought that he could see the shape of a familiar room. Unfortunately, the predominance of white and absence of any shades of grey made it impossible to make out clear details.

He shifted and then jerked in surprise as the black moved with him. The darkness was like water and its movement rendered the—the room? was it a room?—even more impossible and bizarre. He moved to stand and as he did so, the room-space seemed to tilt and slide upward, he dropped back to his knees.

Abruptly the darkness spread out around him like black ink spilling across a white page. The inky blackness seemed to find grooves or lines in the space and the form of the room was revealed to him. He immediately recognized the space. He was in the air temple.

He was seated on a pillow. There was a table before him. Across from him the inky darkness coagulated and loomed like a great black wall. He thought he saw movement in the blackness. His eyes narrowed and he struggled to focus on the inky black form across from him. He thought that he'd seen movement, but the darkness itself was moving—shifting like sand being blown by a subtle breeze.

There was an ugly grating sound, like the needle of a gramophone dragging across a badly scratched record.

Ckk-ckk-

He leaned forward. He thought that he could make out the sound of a human voice in the midst of the crackling, skipping noise.

Ckk-ckk-ckkkkkk-ckkkkaaaaaa-AAAAHHH!

The sound burst into a loud, harsh cry. He covered his ears and jerked back, away from the source of the noise.

AAAAAAAAaaaaaaAAAAAAAaaaaaAAAAAAAAaaaaaAAAAAAaaaaaAAAAAA~

He gritted his teeth as the sound undulated, the sound level rising and falling with a strange regularity.

AAAAAEEEEEEeeeeeEEEEEeeeeeEEEEEeeeeeEEEEEEHHHHHIIIIIIIIIIiiiiiiiiIIIIIIIIiiiiiiiiiiIIIIIIIIiiiiii~

The loud wailing noise changed slowly, moving from one vowel sound to another. It was a long, drawn out cry rose in pitch as it shifted from 'ah' to 'eh' to 'ii.' He pressed his palms against his ears and closed his eyes tightly to block out the sound. He could feel the vibrations ringing in his head.

The sound grew louder and shriller until he swore that he could feel it echoing in his bones. His flesh was shuddering and shaking at the same frequency. He thought he was going to die. He screamed, his own voice joined the cacophony.

Abruptly the room fell silent.

The sound, his voice, the vibrations all stopped. His eyes burst open. He looked up and he saw the movement in the blackness. And he knew that there was someone staring at him through the darkness.

 _He was afraid._

"What are you?" he asked. But there was no sound. He had no voice.

The room tilted sharply upward. He was falling backwards toward the empty white wall behind him. The inky darkness spread like a stain, consuming the white completely. The sense of light and space vanished as the darkness swallowed him as he fell.

He reached out with his hands, trying to find purchase, but there was nothing. There was no up or down, no ground, nothing but the blackness and the silence that swallowed him up.

Ckk-ckk-ckk-ckk-

He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. Not the infernal sound again. Not again. He couldn't deal with that again.

'Can you hear me?' A voice asked.

He opened his eyes and looked around. He could see nothing.

Ckk-ckk-ckk-ckk-

The clicking sound persisted. Perhaps it'd been his imagination? Perhaps he'd created the voice from the sheer desire to hear something other than the infernal racket?

'Can you hear me?'

There it was again. His eyes searched the blackness for something, anything. Any sign of another human being.

There was only the clicking.

Ckk-ckk-ckk-ckk-ckk-ckk-ckkaaaan you hear me? Ckk-ckk-ckk-ckk-

He blinked, his eyes widened. Was that it? Was that the source of the voice? The sound?

 _The vowels he'd heard before!_

Ckk-ckk-ckk-ckk-ckk-ckkaaaan you hear me? Ckk-ckk-ckk-ckk-

The 'ckk' sound followed by the 'ah' was the first part of 'can!' It skipped over the 'you,' but the 'eh' was for 'hear' and 'ii' was for 'me.' Someone or something was trying to talk to him.

Ckk-ckk-ckk-ckk-ckkaaaan you hear me? Ckk-ckk-ckk-ckk-ckkaaaan you hear me? Ckk-ckk-ckk-

"Yes!" He cried. "Yes I can hear you!"

The sound and the voice stopped.

The darkness stirred before him and something blacker than black moved in its depths. The thing that was made of impossible darkness undulated and seemed to grow. He watched it, fascinated by its movement until he realized that it wasn't getting bigger, it was approaching him.

He began to try and move away, to remove himself from the path of the approaching blackness. He soon realized that he had no control over his body. He could only watch as the dark thing made its way toward him.

As it drew closer, he could see it more clearly. It was man-shaped and undulating motion was the movement of its arms and legs as it swam through the blackness toward him. When it was nearly upon him it reached out its arms and grabbed his head. It leaned in close, its forehead pressed against his own.

He felt the pulse of a heartbeat in the hands that held his head. He felt the hot exhalation of breath from the nose that pressed up against his own. He recoiled in horror as the forehead of the dark man pressed against his own.

Incoherent whispers filled his head, the garbled words were like claws, raking across the inside of his skull. The longer it went on the less he could make out. He could only feel the drag of nails on bone, scraping away at the foundations of his being.

Suddenly the dark man's head slipped through his own, for a moment they were one. The blackness was illuminated. He could see himself stretching back into infinity—not just the person he'd been in this lifetime—Yakone's eldest son, the runaway, the performance artist, the actor, Amon—but everyone he'd been before that. He could see his past selves stretching back for centuries.

He turned away from the past and saw the shadowy line of his being stretching out before him—who he would become… perhaps in this lifetime, perhaps in the next. The vision hurt his eyes and he let them slip closed. Behind the lids of his eyes light and dark spiraled around each other, blending into each other, without ever fully mixing.

He opened his eyes. He was back in the room in the air temple from the beginning of the dream. He could see it in full color, the saffron red walls, the pale yellow straw mats, the pale parchment of the wall-hangings in stark contrast with the dark brownish black of the ink that decorated their surface in strange designs… He realized that he'd never seen this room before, but it was familiar to him. He felt that he'd spent hours in this room.

For a moment he thought that his entire life had been nothing more than a dream. Reality seemed strangely unreal—being born to Yakone and raised in the North to kill the Avatar, running away, his adventures as a thief, a performer, a star… his rise to the top as the leader of the Equalist Movement… it all seemed like a strange, fantastic dream.

The comfort and safety he felt in this room was more real to him than anything else in the entire world. A calmness and serenity he'd never experienced settled into his bones. His eyes slipped closed. He wanted to remain here, in this place, for the rest of his life.

A soft sound roused him. He opened his eyes to find two children standing before him, staring at him with great interest. He couldn't guess their ages, but they looked familiar, it was as though he were staring at an image of himself and his brother as children…

But that was impossible. How could he be staring at younger versions of himself and his brother?

Something was wrong.

He looked up and watched in horror as a black ichor began to bleed out of the upper corners of the room. It swallowed the color and the brightness, plunging his reality back into darkness. He looked for the children, they too were gone.

He felt something pass from his body. It was like a great amount of blood were rushing from his veins. He gasped in pain at the loss of it. He turned to look toward the source of the pain, expecting to see a great quantity of his own gore and viscera strewn out before him.

Instead, he saw the dark man. They had been one, he realized. He'd seen the dark being's mind when the man had passed through him. The horrible sense of loss, the tearing sensation, had been the loss of that being tearing itself through his body.

He watched in growing horror as the man made of a substance that was blacker than black leaned in close to him again. His hands reached out, pressed both hands against his chest, and pushed him. Hard.

Amon plummeted through the darkness. His eyes wide with terror as he watched the dark man became nothing more than a darker speck in the sea of black.

He distantly heard a strange voice speak. It came from everywhere and nowhere. It surrounded him and it was in him. It said:

 _Way…_

 _is…_

 _set…_

Amon woke with a start. His head and upper body jerked away from the hard, wooden surface it'd been pressed against. A twinge of pain laced through his left side. He felt the straining creek and whine of the chair under him and blinked. When the room didn't immediately come into focus he blinked again before gently reaching up with both hands to press his index and middle fingers against his eyelids to massage away the bleariness of sleep. A groan slipped from him before he could stop it.

He'd fallen asleep at his desk again.

He hated that.

He reached up and gently adjusted the mask, drawing a hiss of breath as he did so. He'd fallen asleep with it pressed against his face. The hard wood and sharper contours of the mask had been pushed into his flesh, blocking blood flow. As a result, his face was numb and sore, but the moment he adjusted the mask the blood began to rush into the capillaries, making the strangled tissues tingle and ache with the sensation of a ten thousand pinpricks.

Without a thought, he dropped back against the laddered backing of his chair and lifted his arms over his head, trying to pull the tight, knotted muscles in his body into a more comfortable position. He nearly screamed in agony as pain laced through his left side, along the wounds the Avatar had inflicted upon him.

He managed to swallow the cry and reached across his body to gently massage his left side. He groaned in pain as his strong fingers gently stroked over the injury, carefully drawing blood and healing energy to his injuries. He winced as he clumsily performed the self-healing techniques he'd developed over the years.

"Ugh," he moaned, "that little bitch."

He needed more pain killers and a couple more nights in an actual bed…

 _… and more of his piss poor attempts at healing injuries…_

He drew another breath and moaned in pain as his chest expanded and shifted the broken ribs again. He shouldn't have slept at his desk, spiritsdamnit! It was bad for his injuries.

He tensed and shifted and then felt something pop near the nape of his neck. He nearly growled in frustration as he reached up to find a wet spot forming.

"Fuck."

He'd popped a stitch again.

 _Damn the Avatar and her ice blades for tearing his shoulder apart! He still hadn't recovered his full range of motion!_

Well, it was at least in part his own fault. He kept opening the wounds after each healing session and overexerting himself… But he needed to appear 'strong' and 'fit' for his followers. Equalists didn't follow weaklings.

Of course, his followers were not in the room with him at the moment, so he resigned himself to moving with care and looking after himself. He moved slowly gently stretching his body in ways that didn't impact the injured side of his body.

 _He had to thank her for that. At least she hadn't done damage to both sides and rendered him completely useless._

Once he was satisfied that his body wasn't too stiff, he pulled himself out of his chair and took his leave of the small office. He needed to clean up.

It was not a short walk from his office to the abandoned section of tunnels where he'd hidden his private, personal quarters. This was a different suite than the one everyone knew about—it was small, serviceable, sealed off from the rest of the compound, and the room was conveniently connected to every ventilation shaft that serviced the core offices in the equalist compound. It was freezing in winter, but the location, structure of the room, and its connection to the vent system meant that sound carried from every corner of the equalist compound to that room.

He could hear everything that was said, he just had to sit down and listen.

He sighed in relief when he heard the splash of water underfoot. He'd finally reached the abandoned tunnels with the water problems, the ones the Zhen and Sato had wanted sealed off in the event of water bending prisoners. _If only they knew_.

He'd convinced them to keep the section by pointing out that these tunnels led into the mountains and would make excellent escape routes in the event that everything went south. They would need a quick and easy way out if the Dai Li or some other foreign invading force managed to find their headquarters. These tunnels would serve them well and let them scatter throughout the New Republic, allowing them to regroup and retake the city easily. They'd liked the plan so much that they'd installed serviceable lighting.

He stopped halfway down a particularly derelict, forgotten passage in front of a door that hung precariously from its hinges. He leaned against the doorframe for a moment, checking that the small closet space was empty and that no one was heading his way. There wasn't the faintest whisper of a pulse.

He sighed in relief. He didn't want to walk-in on a couple of young equalists fucking like armadillo rabbits in what they assumed was an empty, forgotten closet. That would be particularly awkward. It hadn't happened yet, but he never let his guard down until he was in his room.

He gently pushed the door open, stepped into the tiny closet and closed the door behind him silently. Once he was inside, he gently bent a bit of water into a sturdy ice-hook and carefully reached toward the ceiling to lock the hook into a small hole. With a quick, firm tug, the latch on the trap door he'd personally installed gave way and unfolded into convenient stairs.

He let the ice-hook become water again, quickly climbed up the stairs into the dark upper room, and closed the trap door behind him. He reached into the darkness and gently twisted a nob, a soft glow illuminated his surroundings just enough for him to see the shape of things. He removed his boots and made his way into his most private chambers, switching on a few more of the electric lanterns supplied by Hiroshi Sato as he went.

Once the room was lit enough that he could look around he felt at ease. The tension melted out of his shoulders and he leaned back against a wall to take in his small, safe house. There was a comfortable bed, a serviceable desk and chair, a worn out wardrobe, a small dresser, and a floor-to-ceiling bookcase filled with texts on strategy, philosophy, and great works of literature.

The room had two doors. One had once been the front door, but it now led to a solid brick wall, which he'd put in place to seal the room off from any intrusions. The other door led to a small, comfortable bathroom.

Unlike his 'official private room,' the walls weren't decorated with equalist images and paraphernalia. Instead, he'd adorned the walls and surfaces with personal items he'd accumulated during the years he'd wandered the world after leaving his family. These included a collection of Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation opera masks, a few highly decorative show-weapons—the sort that would be used in a grand, theatrical production, and some scattered paintings, theatre posters, scrolls and a few old photographs.

His eyes were drawn to a particularly old picture. He was standing in the midst of a group of men and women who were crowded around a strong, solidly built man. They were all grinning cheerfully for the photographer. His old friends… _what would they think of him now?_

He shook his head; his mind was wandering back to the days before he'd come to Republic City. This was no time for melancholy recollections. He was here to clean up and get himself together for the coming day. The United Forces were still in Yue Bay; reinforcements from the Four Nations would be arriving soon. He had to rally his troops and prepare them for the onslaught.

Amon strode to the bathroom, shrugging off his jacket, shirt, and undershirt as he went. He folded them and laid them on the bed, he'd be leaving them in his 'official private room' to be cleaned later. He pushed open the bathroom door, turned on the electric lantern, and came to stand in front of the sink.

He pressed his hands onto the rim of the sink and let out a heavy sigh. His head dropped to stare at the bowl and down the black drain. He noticed, absently, that the porcelain was looking a little gray and made a mental note to clean it soon—it wasn't like anyone else knew about this place. He had to keep it to his own standards and that meant he cleaned everything himself.

He slowly tilted his masked visage upward to look into the silvery surface of the mirror; its smooth surface was marred by a few large dragon spider-webbing cracks, probably the reason its original owner had thrown it out. His eyes focus on his own appearance. He was still wearing his signature mask, but the rest of his upper body was uncovered. He was tall, solidly built, and had just enough scars to look like a rather frightening opponent. The beautiful reds, blacks, yellows, and blues of the tattoo that covered his right pectoral, stretched over his shoulder, and half-way down his right arm and back only added to his masculine mystique and power…

But even still, he couldn't keep his eyes from slipping down to his left side, where a great, ugly greenish-blue bruise bloomed across his chest. There was a small patch of white bandage affixed to his left shoulder which had turned dark red due to his poor stitch-work. He could even see the way his muscles strained as he leaned on the sink. He looked tired and beat up. He felt exhausted.

And the only way he was going to start feeling better—more like himself and less like a discarded husk of a man—was by removing the mask. He gritted his teeth at the thought. Removing his mask after sleeping on it was, after all, the worst part of falling asleep at his desk.

He reminded himself again that he needed to remove the mask before he got into the shower or he'd risk damaging the painstakingly carved wood. He thought about how nice it would be to feel the water running down his face and fresh air against the bared skin of his face. He imagined how wonderful it would feel to clean away the thick layer of grime—a combination of oil from his flesh, dead skin, sweat slickened makeup, and any dust or dirt that found its way under his mask that had settled on his skin during the course of the previous day and night.

Once he was fully reminded of how good it would feel to have the damn thing off, he drew a few steadying breaths, grit his teeth, and closed his eyes tightly. Then he gently unhooked the mask and began slowly, carefully peeling it off the skin of his face.

The moisture from his skin, and breath, and sweat, combined with the makeup and other debris had mixed over the course of the day to form a sticky, wet, adhesive layer. This wet layer was usually nothing more than a somewhat disgusting inconvenience. He could wear the mask for two days straight without discomfort and he could put on and take off the mask with ease. But as soon as he slept in his mask—and this was particularly true when he fell asleep in the mask with his face pressed against a hard surface—the moist paste would create a vacuum seal and the mask would… _fuse_ to the surface of his skin.

The longer the mask was pressed to his skin, the more painful it was when he'd inevitably have to carefully peal it off his face. As he gently worked the edges, beginning the process of prying the wooden mask off, he could feel the smooth, inner surface of the mask tugging at his skin like a large suction cup. Yes, _this_ was why he _hated_ falling asleep at his desk more than anything.

Finally, with a sucking sound not unlike adhesive being pulled from a smooth surface, the mask came free. Amon gasped in relief, his eyes watering from the discomfort of the extraction process. He blinked in the dim light of his bathroom and made a face. The he winced and yelped, his hand coming up to clutch his nose—apparently he'd failed to adjust the mask enough earlier, his nose was only now recovering blood flow. He massaged his face gently to try and ease the lingering, tingling pain.

He caught a look at himself in the mirror. The dust and smoke from Sato's machines had caught him full in the face earlier and while the effects hadn't shown up on his mask, there were dark smears around his eyes on around his mouth. He could still just taste coal and filthy ash on his lips. The makeup and waxy prosthetics that he'd used to create his scar had been compressed and smudged, making his face a thick, blurry, red mess. And yet, even with his face coated in black dust, waxy putty, makeup, and sweat, he could still clearly see the dark circles under his eyes.

 _Things were supposed to get easier after he captured the Avatar._

He looked down at the inside of his mask. The makeup and grime were smeared along the inside. He gave the cold-water handle for the faucet a hard twist and noticed a few chips of rust peel away. One more thing to fix when he had a free moment. The pipes strained and creaked as the water came rushing out—and he would have to take a look at the pipes as well…

He grabbed a towel and the special soap that was used for cleaning the inside of the mask and began to wipe away the grime. He didn't stop until the mask looked as clean as the day he'd first laid the lacquer on… unfortunately, he noticed that the lacquer was starting to thin from the repeated cleanings. He'd have to change out this mask for one of the other duplicates he kept on hand and re-apply the lacquer when he had a free night.

He dried the mask, oiled it and set it on a nearby shelf before starting on his face. First came the process of stripping the makeup and grime—it always took so long to apply the scar and somehow it took even longer to remove it. But that was to be expected, after all, he had to apply layers and layers of makeup all over his entire face to achieve the scarring effect. But it was worth it—whenever anyone challenged him or his story, he only had to remove his mask and show his careful, dedicated craftsmanship. It was an effective way to shut down anyone who doubted him.

Once he'd removed the bulk of the makeup, he set to work peeling away the carefully molded bits of skin-like material that gave his upper lip the appearance of puckered scarring and hid the hairs of his eyebrows. From there, it only took a little more scrubbing before he felt like his skin could breathe again.

And it would breathe for the next hour while he showered, and prepped for the coming day. Once he was clean, he'd reapply the scar, put his mask back on, and get back to work.

He choked back a dark laugh and shook his head. Being Amon was a full-time job now. He looked at himself in the mirror and took in his real face. He recalled how he'd gone to look up his father's face as soon as he'd arrived in Republic City. He'd found himself staring at an older version of himself. Every day Amon looked a little more like his father.

His lips twitched into a self-deprecating grin. Well, at least he was handsome—or that's what he'd been told on the rare occasions when he'd wandered the streets without his mask or scar. Even now, he looked good for forty.

He turned away from the mirror and turned on the shower. By the time he'd stripped off his pants, and undergarments, the water was hot. He stepped under the spray and sighed in relief.

 _There was something about water that made every single part of him feel better._

 _Water tribe._

He reminded himself.

 _Water bender._

He pushed the offensive thought from his mind began to hum an old Earth Kingdom sea shanty he'd picked up during a brief stint aboard a mercantile vessel that traded between the North and the Earth Kingdom. It was a dirty, nasty ditty, usually sung loudly by drunken sailors on shore leave, usually after they'd had a pleasant visit to a brothel. But damn if it wasn't catchy. Even after more than twenty years, the song would get stuck in his head at the oddest times…

He finished showering off a little more quickly than he'd anticipated. As he toweled himself down he mentally calculated that he actually had a bit more time than he'd expected to sort himself out before he needed to be in his 'official quarters,' waiting for his lieutenant, Zhen, and Sato.

He shrugged on a plain, green, cotton bathrobe he'd picked up during his time in Ba Sing Se and went to sit down at his desk. He pulled open the drawer and pulled out two files. One was the file he kept on Hiroshi Sato and the other contained everything he had on Avatar.

He flipped open Sato's file and flipped to the section that outlined the industrialist's weak points. He scanned the page until he found what he was looking for. His notes from his first encounters with Sato; at the time, Sato hadn't known he was speaking with the equalist leader—he hadn't even known what equalists were.

Back then, the equalist movement had sorely needed funding. It had taken Amon quite a bit of work to secure that job at Kwong's Cuisine, but it had been worth it to observe the city's high rollers and locate the powerful men and women who nursed a hatred for benders. Once he'd found them it was a simple matter to target the most psychologically vulnerable man among them. That the job had lined Amon's pockets with enough money enough to let him survive without a backer was an added bonus.

Sato had exposed himself within Amon's first month of employment. The wealthy industrialist was a heavy drinker and his latent violent tendencies emerged after his cup of sour oolong wine. He was also quite a talkative drunk—which had helped Amon figure him out quickly.

During those early encounters, Sato had alternated between verbally abusing the sedate, yet professional young waiter and ranting about the evilness of fire benders. He'd told Amon everything the equalist leader needed to know within the course of three visits. It had been nothing to slip the equalist flier into the distraught man's pocket.

One rally and Sato was hooked, but Amon had kept his notes in the event that the old man started to get cold feet. He would always be able to remind the industrialist of how his wife had died in front of him, how the same could happen to his daughter as long as there were benders left in the world. He could always remind Sato of how helpless he'd felt in those dark moments. All it would take were few subtle comments to bring the man back around.

Now, he was revisiting the notes for another reason entirely. He needed to sooth Sato and get him into a calmer state of mind. From the start of their professional relationship, Amon had discouraged Sato from drinking; knowing the violence and anger that would burst forth could be detrimental. Now, he needed to ensure that Sato would keep his head in the game, especially since they were so close to their ultimate victory.

Amon massaged his temple. Sato's daughter, Asami, was key to keeping the industrialist under control. Unfortunately, Asami was with the fire bender, Mako, and the rest of the Avatar's allies. She was out of reach and possibly in danger and, as a result, Sato was becoming unstable.

Amon could not guarantee her safety and protection as long as she was not in his power. He could provide plenty of assurances, but the girl's ultimate fate would remain uncertain until the dust settled.

 _This was far from an optimal situation…_

His eyes narrowed. He looked at the smiling face of Hiroshi Sato. Perhaps it was about time that he starting making plans to remove Sato from the picture? After all, Sato wouldn't like the compromises that Amon would be forced to make in the future to assure the survival of the revolution.

Sato was an extremist who wanted all benders to die, because removing their bending wasn't enough. And there were many in the equalist army who felt the same way. They would rally around Sato when Amon bent to avoid breaking and they would disrupt the unity of the revolution. Of course that wasn't even touching on the fact that Sato would object to many of the plans Amon had for Republic City…

No, it was best to placate Sato now, put him back in his workshop, and ensure he cranked out enough weapons to keep them one step ahead of the Four Nations. Once things settled down, Sato would need to be removed from the public eye somehow. If that meant death, so be it.

He'd incorporate that eventuality into the next few phases. If Sato's behavior improved and he became more moderate, then there would be no need to kill him. After all, the man was a valuable asset.

 _It would be a shame to kill the eagle goose that laid the platinum eggs._

Amon closed Sato's file and opened the Avatar's.

Name: Avatar Korra  
Born: 153 AG  
Age: 17  
Sex: Female  
Height: 1.70 meters  
Eyes: Cyan blue  
Hair: Dark brown  
Nationality: Southern Water Tribe  
Status: Mastery of three elements—fire, earth, and water  
Family: Unknown

Amon had some problems with this file.

First: he found that the data he had on her failed to account for her pugnacious determination and unpredictability. He could not guess what the brat would do next and he still didn't know what she was even fully capable of. That was concerning—an enemy he could not predict was an enemy he could not control.

 _He liked being in control._

 _She continuously unbalanced him._

Second: he found the idea that the Avatar had 'mastered' three elements laughable. From what he'd seen she was an incredibly skilled, heinously strong bender, but she wielded her power with all the grace of an angry lion bull. Unfortunately, this did nothing to cripple her. Her lack of finesse and mastery made her an even bigger threat. She didn't grasp the extent of her capabilities, so she didn't think twice about what she was doing and tore through things without thought…

She'd come after him several times and he'd wisely chosen to avoid confrontation. He did not want to be someone or something she 'tore through.'

Third and most pressing: there was the concerning 'unknown' beside 'family.'

Until last night, he hadn't worried about the lack of information on the Avatar's family. He'd assumed that her family didn't matter—after all, she was the Avatar. Nothing else about her was anywhere near as significant as that status and, if the stories were true, she'd been taken from her family at a young age to train to be the Avatar. He'd assumed that her parents had simply handed her over to the White Lotus and resigned themselves to never seeing their daughter again.

Last night, a missive had come from the North. Based on what information he'd pried from the young equalist who'd been overseeing the telegrams, it'd been a very formally written threat. The gist of which could be summed up as: surrender the avatar, alive and unharmed, or suffer the consequences.

One little missive had changed everything.

He now knew that someone in the Northern Water Tribe cared about the Avatar and they were important enough to send an official message from Northern Palace. He didn't believe for even a second that this was a political ploy. Based on the young equalist's recollections, Amon had pieced together that whomever had sent the missive was taking the capture and imprisonment of the Avatar personally. No man of the water tribes used the terms "honor" and "blood" in the same missive lightly and it signaled that the message was not an idle threat.

His best guess was that the Avatar was related to a lesser, but influential noble in the Northern Tribe. This man, presumably an old war hawk with lingering recollections of old tribal honor codes, was treating the Avatar's capture as a slight against his honor. He would likely try and assemble a small team of water benders and perform a suicidal, tactical strike against the equalist group.

Amon had spent many hours carefully reviewing every weak point in the base, looking for openings that this small group might take. By his estimation, it would probably be several weeks before this team of avengers arrived, but for all he knew the team would arrive tomorrow in the midst of battle when it would be harder to track the movements of dangerous, highly skilled benders.

Or, they could show up months later when the equalists had secured Republic City and were fully prepared to deal with an advanced threat of that nature…

But in spite of his efforts, Amon remained troubled. He did not know which Northern noble shared blood with the Avatar. Depending on the status of the noble, the threat level would be different. Amon had been hedging his bets on a well-connected lesser noble. Considering the Avatar, Amon felt that this was the most reasonable assumption. Furthermore, in preparing for the inevitable attack, his equalists would be prepared to deal with a wider variety of threats.

However… in the highly unlikely event that the Avatar's relative was of greater importance, the training would not be adequate. Such an eventuality would mean anything from a small platoon of highly skilled water bending soldiers from the Northern army, or—and this was highly unlikely—three-to-five platoons of elite water bending soldiers.

The uncertainty made him nervous and he now wished that he knew more about the young Avatar's background and history. Even the smallest hint would give him an edge in this particular situation and prevent unnecessary loss of life. He hated the fact that he'd been so remiss and lax in his research and that he hadn't considered this possibility.

He focused on the smiling face of the young Avatar in the photo he'd clipped to the top of her file and glared. "Who are you?" he muttered.

Everything about the young Avatar screamed Southern Water Tribe. The darker, vibrant cyan eye-color was more common in the south than the north—Northerners typically had eyes that were a pale, nearly translucent blue. The darker skin was another 'Southern' tell—even his mother's dark complexion had been at least a shade lighter than the Avatar's. And the Avatar's wild and mannish behavior would have been entirely unbecoming and unwelcome in the North…

There was no hint of northerner in her as far as he could tell… and yet… she had a relative of significance in the north. Amon sat back in his chair—maybe that was the clue. He just had to look into the very public records of the water tribe councils and nobles and find someone with a southern background. He'd be able to plan for the assault based on that information.

He'd put Zhen on it. Zhen was good at managing, re-arranging, disguising, and finding relevant public records. That was half the reason why Amon had promoted him to lieutenant. He was a key cog in the equalist machine. A clerk who knew the record systems in Republic City inside and out was an invaluable asset.

 _And once Zhen gathered that information… he could call on his ace in the hole._

He reached into his drawer and pulled out the file on his brother. He flipped it open and reviewed the contents. If there was one man who knew the ins and outs of the Northern Water Tribe politics, it was Tarrlok. Hell, Tarrlok probably knew more about politics than anyone… he'd been on that damn council for so long.

Amon smirked to himself. His little brother would know how to manipulate and move high-ranking officials according to the revolution's needs and he knew how to target weak points and exploit the desires. He would probably be able to name the Avatar's relative easily based on the criteria Amon gave him.

He lightly touched the picture of Tarrlok with two fingers, his gaze softening and the corners of his mouth pulling, unconsciously, into a warm smile. In spite of everything that his brother had done, Amon had to admit that he'd missed his little brother. It would be good to have him back.

 _They'd be a family again._

Then it was settled. Today, Amon would go to the cells, collect his brother and begin working on him. He did not think it would take much to bring Tarrlok around. From what he'd seen, Tarrlok did whatever it took to achieve his end. It probably wouldn't take much to push him to shift his alliances and join forces with him—after all, there weren't any other options.

He would go to see Tarrlok before the rally. He would begin the rehabilitation process and test his theories. Once Tarrlok came around, he'd get to work on the Avatar. It would be easier to deal with her once he was certain that his brother had fallen in line. That way, he wouldn't have to worry about any dangerous alliances…

Amon set aside the file and began the tedious process of re-applying his scar—or, as he liked to call it in his lighter moods, his 'stage-face.' Once his face was in place, he tossed together and downed a potent concoction of pain-killers and took a moment to re-center himself into his equalist leader persona—something he had to do after touching on his old memories from childhood. Then, when he was satisfied that he was in the correct mindset, he dressed, selected a fresh mask that looked exactly like the previous one, gathered his laundry, and began retracing his steps.

He arrived back in the main halls of the equalist headquarters 30 minutes ahead of schedule. He took a moment to gather a few papers from the office he'd been working in the night before. He wanted to go over the plans and double-check his decisions before Zhen and Sato came to meet with him.

Amon arrived at his 'official quarters' in plenty of time and made himself comfortable. Zhen and Sato were on time, as usual. Sato was a clearly under the weather, but last night had been his first indulgence in years. Amon was ready to forgive Sato on the condition that the industrialist be more careful in the future.

They ate a small, simple breakfast of rice with pork beef and pepper okra, reviewed plans, settled on strategies, and planned the next phase of their take-over. Zhen provided vital information on how to manage major buildings and facilities to avoid depriving the entire city of functional necessities. Sato started drafting designs for new war machines and weapons that could assure them victory in the coming conflict. All Amon needed to do was provide his insights and approve actions.

But then it came time to discuss a rather sensitive topic: the events of last night and their bearing on the Revolution. Sato, naturally, apologized profusely for his behavior again. Amon accepted his apology, but also reminded the two that they'd lost a piece of vital information due to Sato's behavior. He, was, however, careful not to frame it as a complete failure—he wanted the industrialist apologetic, not resentful. He explained that he had an idea of who could have sent the missive and what it meant, but in order to properly prepare, he'd need more data.

Sato was eager to offer assistance—clearly trying to make up for his behavior—but Amon knew that he needed the industrialist to concentrate on constructing new weapons. He told Sato to focus his energy on anti-bender technology, particularly anti-water bender tech. He sent Zhen to do what Zhen was good at—locate every piece of information in the Republic City records that said anything about the Northern Water Tribe Council and its members.

He wanted names, histories, specialties… everything they had available in the government hall of records. Zhen was to prioritize all politicians with ties to the Southern Tribes. They were going to take a close look and see if they could narrow down their list of potential enemies. Once they had a clear idea of who might have sent the mysterious telegram, they'd be able to prepare concrete strategies in the event of an attack.

The meeting adjourned and the trio went their separate ways. Sato went to his workshops and factories, Zhen went to the Republic City Hall to dig through the records, and Amon made his rounds in the compound. He always started his days in the mess hall and other public areas in the compound—he'd found that showing his mask or scar around his troops and making regular appearances increased morale.

He was, as always, greeted by several equalists who were eager for the opportunity of speaking with their leader and providing their reasons for joining the movement. They were often shy and hesitant, but he always welcomed them and listened warmly. He'd found that people liked that in a leader.

After an hour in the mess hall, he'd take a walk through the compound and make sure that things were in order. It was nothing more than a cursory check of the building and another gesture for his followers. If they knew that he walked through the building regularly, then they cared a little more about what they were doing. He was their leader, they wanted to impress him. It was part of his job to give them the opportunity to do so.

Every time he made the walk, he always stopped to praise at least one equalist for doing good work. And he did his best to ensure he never rewarded the same equalist with his attention twice in one week. When he came across a young new-comer in need of assistance, he always stopped and provided a little guidance or assistance if necessary. And they always appreciated his attention.

Once he'd finished making his rounds, he returned to his office to review the strategies and check the status on several reports that had made it to his desk while he'd been away from it. While he was very interested in the military reports, he knew that he had to review resources and allocations before he even dug into strategy. He hated dealing with resources and allocations, but Zhen was busy so it was down to him.

He actually managed to finish reviewing the numbers before Zhen came in large box full of files from the Republic City Intelligence Bureau. Amon cleared his desk quickly. This took priority over just about everything else.

Together, the two men began tearing through the files, looking for significant figures in the North with ties to the South. Amon expected the final stack of figures to be relatively small, but the results of their efforts surprised him—the stack of Northern figures with Southern ties easily dwarfed the stack of Northern figures who had no ties to the Southern Tribes. And even then, it occurred to him that at least a few of those figures without Southern ties might be staunch followers of 'White Lotus' teachings who would make a stand for the Avatar weather or not they were related to this particular incarnation. There were even a few particularly odd individuals who traced their lines back to previous Water Tribe Avatar and believed that family was family no matter what incarnation the Avatar wore.

Once they'd finished two rounds of sifting through the files, Amon turned to Zhen and asked, "What's on the agenda for the afternoon?"

"We have a major rally for the equalists to boost morale for the coming conflict with the Four Nations at two and small gathering of the inner circle to listen to the Four Nations conference at five-thirty."

Amon nodded as he stared at the stacks of files. "Alright."

"Should we postpone anything? Change dates?" Zhen asked.

Amon turned to look at his lieutenant, his favorite equalist. The poor man looked tired and worn down, but his cool blue eyes gleamed with determination.

Amon smiled under his mask.

 _Who was he to disappoint his favorite equalist?_

"Of course not. This changes nothing. We have no reason to believe that the situation is dire and we need to avoid alarming our followers. We move forward as planned."

Zhen nodded and stood. "In that case, I need to go and make sure that preparations go ahead as planned."

Amon looked at the stacks of files once more. "Before you go, lieutenant, I'd like you to make preparations for a certain prisoner to view this afternoon's festivities."

"The Avatar?"

Amon shook his head. "I'm going to see if a certain councilor with plenty of knowledge of the North can be brought around."

"Are you sure that's wise?" Zhen asked.

Amon knew that this was coming and provided his reasoning. "With his intel we could neutralize the Water Tribe forces and the United Forces easily. If we don't make the attempt, we'll never know what we could have gained by his alliance."

"He's a blood bender."

Amon had been expecting this argument as well. "He was a blood bender. He's now a non-bender. We need to think about indoctrinating those who have been purified."

"The equalists aren't going to like that," Zhen said.

"I know," Amon stood and turned Zhen, "but what is 'liked' and what is 'necessary' are often two different things. We need to ensure that equalism survives and to do that, we must swell our ranks with the purified."

Zhen's eyes widened. He clearly understood what Amon was saying, even if the words weren't explicit. All of their ex-bender captives were to be converted to equalism and sent to the front line to support the cause. And Amon was going to start his 'rehabilitation program' with Tarrlok. The non-benders would be spared, the population would be purified, and the future of equalism would be secured.

The corners of Zhen's mouth twitched upward, even as his brow drew downward—giving the lieutenant a look of perplexed confusion. "I understand, sir," he said, even though Amon could tell that the man couldn't quite grasp what the equalist leader was planning.

Amon approached Zhen and set his hand on the man's shoulder—a gesture of comfort and closeness that always helped him bring the man around to his way of thinking. "We start with Tarrlok as a test. We perfect the process with the Avatar. The rest will follow."

"Of-of course sir!" Zhen said, he was smiling now, even if his eyes spoke of fear and confusion.

Amon withdrew his hand and smiled at the first among his followers. "Now, lieutenant Zhen, go and see to the preparations. We want to put on a big show."

Zhen gave a quick, small bow and said, "Yes sir."

The lieutenant took his leave. Amon was certain that the lieutenant would come up with his own justifications for his leader's decisions. Zhen was always so good at inventing reasons why his leader's decisions were for the best, so Amon let him invent. No one would dare question the Equalist Leader directly, and when the equalists brought their questions to Zhen, he would explain things to the rest in terms that they could easily understand and accept.

Amon smirked as he tidied up the stacks of files. Things were going according to his plans. Now he just needed to convince his little brother to fall in line… That would be the hardest part of this little venture. Amon knew how difficult Tarrlok could be when he thought he was right.

 _Tarrlok could be downright insufferable when he thought he was right about something._

Once Amon was satisfied that things were tidy and that there was nothing related to equalist strategy or armaments visible on his desk, he set out to visit his brother and the Avatar. They were kept in the better cells that were slightly closer to the surface—better air circulation and a little light did wonders for the morale of prisoners and he didn't want to break either of them…

Well, not yet, anyway.

As he passed through the guardroom for the upper cells, he took note of the new guards that Zhen had stationed outside the cell. After the little debacle with Sato, Zhen had requested permission to change out the guards. Amon had consented, thinking that it was just another measure to cover up Sato's behavior and a means of protecting the Avatar from further abuse from the industrialist. But now, Amon suspected that there'd been another reason. He might not have noticed except…

 _… all the new guards were women._

Zhen had neglected to mention something to him. He'd have to have a word with his lieutenant later. If any one of his equalists had thought for even a second of doing irreparable harm to his political prisoners… particularly one that he needed to move into a key position in the near future… they would need to be dealt with immediately.

He calmly took the key from the commanding officer on duty—the same female equalist who had cleaned up the Avatar after the humiliation—and unlocked the door. He strode inside and took another look at his brother's new accommodations. It wasn't anywhere near as flashy as Tarrlok's previous home had been, but it was certainly spacious and well lit, if a little sparse.

Amon's mask hid his sardonic smile as he looked around the room. Yes, this was a far cry from his brother's lavish home in Republic City. Even if these were the best cells available, he was certain that his brother would be pleased to have better accommodations.

A second glance around the cells gave him pause. It took him a moment to locate his brother and the Avatar. They weren't curled up in the cots provided for them, but had both settled on the floor next to the wall that divided their cells. They'd both fallen asleep on the floor.

Tarrlok was stretched out on the floor and looked almost comfortable with his legs stretched out and his head resting on his arm as he snored softly. But Amon had never seen him in this state before. Even as children, Tarrlok had taken an almost obsessive interest in his appearance. His hair was always 'just so' and his attire was always immaculate—that fastidiousness had been another thing that drove their father crazy.

But the Tarrlok in front of him didn't seem to care about his appearance at all. This Tarrlok let his hair come free of the ties that kept it back, so that it was draped, unkempt and wild, around his long, narrow face. His clothes were crumpled and dirty from sleeping on the floor. There were dark circles under his eyes and new lines on his face.

Amon felt his chest tighten at the sight of his brother's state of disarray, but quickly reminded himself that it was for the greater good. Once this was over, they could be together again. They could be a family again…

 _It didn't have to be like this forever._

 _Soon, it would all be better._

 _Just like the good old days._

He heard the sound of a guard moving around outside. A female guard, he reminded himself. He stood then, and stepped to the right to look into the Avatar's cell. He knelt down in front of the bars and really looked at the Avatar.

Unlike his brother, she was sleeping seated upright with her back pressed against the wall. He couldn't help but think that the position looked very uncomfortable. Her body, usually tall and strong, was curled into itself, as though she were trying to make herself as small as possible. She'd pressed herself against the wall and he imagined that when she'd been awake, she'd been pressing herself _into_ the wall, as if afraid to show her back to anyone. He could just make out the dark-circles under her own eyes. Even in sleep, her brow was furrowed and her mouth was twisted with distress.

Something _had_ happened last night. He would be having a word with Zhen.

Amon studied the Avatar for a moment longer. His eyes narrowed and he moved a little to the left so that he could see into both cells. He let out a quiet hiss of displeasure.

Tarrlok and the Avatar were situated at roughly the same place along the dividing wall—as though they'd been sitting back to back with nothing but the wall between them. He hadn't anticipated recent events to drive the Avatar into the arms of his brother. Or perhaps, he hadn't anticipated his brother's tenacity and determination. Perchance he'd underestimated his brother's political and manipulative skills and overestimated the Avatar's ability to hold a grudge.

 _Was she_ _like a child that didn't know that the same dog would bite twice?_

Or was it the other way around?

Had the Avatar brought his brother around, or was Tarrlok working on her? He didn't know which possibility was more likely, because he didn't know the Avatar beyond what the news clippings and her behavior in battle told him about her… and that wasn't much to go on. She might be more conniving than he'd given her credit for… wasn't that the way with her type? Wealthy, female, wanted for nothing, surrounded by a powerful international political force—didn't that sort of lifestyle _breed_ devious and manipulative behavior?

But then, the Avatar had always seemed rather guileless. She let Tenzin, a rather incompetent and ineffectual man, lead her around by the nose. And hadn't his brother _always_ been working on her? He'd heard rumors about the bribes his brother had given out to try and bring the Avatar around. The gifts had sounded rather extravagant at the time… _if they were meant to be bribes._

 _They weren't too extravagant for engagement gifts._

Amon's eyes narrowed into thoughtful slits. Was that Tarrlok's game?

Getting the Avatar off Air Bender Island and into his bed?

Amon drew in a deep, steadying breath. It was a good thing that he'd come today. He needed to separate them immediately. He needed his brother at his side, helping him lead the equalists. He couldn't let Tarrlok support or use the Avatar for his own plans.

As for the Avatar, Amon needed her to be emotionally vulnerable and isolated. A few weeks in solitary confinement would begin the process of breaking her down and prepping her for the Beijising Initiative—the Polestar Initiative. After a few weeks in seclusion, she'd welcome the presence and company of any human being, even her nemesis, Amon.

After all, the Avatar seemed to be a social creature that craved attention and positive affirmation. She thrived on companionship and comradery. Using neglect and isolation as punishment and human company as a reward for 'good behavior' would be the most efficient way to break her down and rebuild her into his ideal spokesperson.

He would always be the center of the Revolution—the red sun that bore down on benders and burned their impurities from the world. His brother would be the moon, the one who followed in his path and turned the tides of ex-benders toward the equalist cause. The Avatar would be the pole-star that would guide benders to fall in line…

But now he knew that if he ever hoped to create that perfect reflection of his voice and power, he had to begin the process of breaking her down immediately. The missive from the North Pole meant that there would be attempts to liberate her. He'd have to break her, rebuild her, and begin playing house with her before the first conflict was closed if he wanted to make sure that whatever family claimed her gave up.

Of course this meant that he'd have to adjust his plans significantly. He'd need to make time in his schedule to visit the solitary block and check her progress regularly. He'd need to watch her closely to make sure that when she did finally start coming apart he was there to start picking up the pieces. That meant time and energy away from the strategy table…

This would be so much easier if he'd managed to capture a few of her close friends. Sure, he had some White Lotus he could use to apply pressure, but they wouldn't be nearly as effective as the fire bender or the earth bender. And he sorely doubted that Tarrlok would make an adequate hostage for the young Avatar…

And he needed his brother alive and unharmed to start the process of bringing around ex-benders… He also suspected that if he dared to involve his brother, Tarrlok would try and steal the young Avatar out from under him…

 _Ugh…_

 _This was such a mess…_

He needed them both in his power, but he couldn't use them against each other or leave them alone together…

 _And he was running out of cell blocks with all the ex-benders they had captured._

Amon stood and reached up to massage his eyes through the eye holes of his mask. He was getting ahead of himself again. He needed to focus on the moment. Be in the now. He'd make everything work out as long as he didn't overthink it too much.

He let his hands fall to his sides, walked over to the door of Tarrlok's cell. The clickity-clack of the lock as the key twisted its internal mechanisms broke the silence. The councilman stirred and twisted to look up toward the front of his cell. His eyes widened at the sight of the Equalist Leader standing before him.

Amon pulled the cell door open and stood to one side expectantly. Tarrlok pulled himself to his feet, but made no move to approach the door. Instead, the councilman gave his masked brother a baleful glare—his lip curling into an expression of disgust and rage.

Amon felt some relief that his brother couldn't see his expression soften, or the longing in his eyes. This wasn't how their reunion was supposed to go. Things were supposed to be different, but Tarrlok had chosen the wrong side of the conflict. He drew a deep breath and hardened his heart as he thought of all the horrible things that Tarrlok had done to secure his power. Frankly, his brother was lucky that he'd decided to forgive him.

"Tarrlok." Amon fought to kept his voice neutral, but there was an unmistakable edge of hostility in his tone.

"Amon." Tarrlok nodded, acknowledging him, but didn't budge from where he stood. "What do you want?" He watched Amon like a cornered, feral wolf dog. Amon could practically see his brother's hackles rise.

Amon's eyes narrowed behind his mask. Tarrlok was being difficult. "I want you to cooperate."

Tarrlok shifted and tilted his head away from his brother and frowned. He looked uncertain and suspicious. "Why?"

Amon let out a huff of frustration. "Must everything have an explanation?" When Tarrlok tensed and shifted back a little more, Amon let out a sigh. He'd have to explain his plan and motivate his brother…

 _So… Tarrlok wanted the Avatar to think well of him…?_

Amon chose his words carefully. "I want you to come with me. It's too soon to expect support from the Avatar and too soon to expect her to be welcomed into our ranks. As a prominent ex-bender, your decision to join the movement will lend us credibility. Your miraculous conversion will be a test for the Equalist Movement's readiness to accept ex-benders into their ranks. You will prove that ex-benders can be converted." It was a more than reasonable explanation.

Tarrlok snorted. "Is that why you keep me around?" The ex-councilman's face twisted into a nasty, knowing smirk. "Is it really just so I can be 'your first convert?'"

Amon did not flinch or acknowledge Tarrlok's unspoken question. "Perhaps I should take the Avatar instead? I'm sure the equalists would be _overjoyed_ to see her again."

There was a soft scuffling sound from the other cell, but Amon didn't let it distract him. He kept his gaze focused on his brother. The fight went out of Tarrlok and the ex-councilman approached. He stepped out of his cell and stopped to stand in front of his masked brother. "If I come with you and do as you say, you'll leave her alone?"

Amon frowned. Tarrlok was really hamming it up, casting himself as the hero of this little narrative, but he was trying to fight a master. "I'll leave the Avatar alone for now, but she will not remain here much longer."

Tarrlok blinked in surprise.

Amon grinned behind his mask. "She clearly requires safer quarters with better amenities, don't you think?"

"Alright." Tarrlok sighed heavily. "Let's see if you can convince me."

Amon went to open the door to the cell-block. "Come."

"Tarrlok!" The Avatar's voice took Amon by surprise. He spun to see her standing up against the bars of her cell. Her blue eyes were wide with fear, but she looked completely exhausted.

Amon watched his brother turn to look back at the Avatar. "Stay strong." The words were spoken with a hushed, almost secretive tone, even though they were loud enough for Amon to hear. Tarrlok was really playing up his role as the hero…

Amon frowned behind his mask.

 _It was a good thing he'd come today._

[] [] []

Tarrlok fell into step behind his brother as they made their way through the equalist base. Tarrlok took his time looking around, but there wasn't much to look at, all the walls were made out of the same stone material, there were no decorations whatsoever, and beyond the occasional water stain or natural discoloration there were no place-markers. He quickly realized that the only way to track their path was by paying attention to the turns they took as they walked and that took little to no focus.

So, since there was nothing to look at, he decided to bother his brother. "Aren't you going to put me in chains?" he asked.

Amon didn't even spare him a second glance. "Do you think I need to?"

Tarrlok flinched at the sharp reminder of his helplessness. He frowned and glared at his brother. He could practically feel the smugness radiating off the equalist leader. No, Amon didn't need to put him in chains. He'd never needed to put his brother in chains.

 _Second best._

Any desire to provoke conversation with Amon died. Tarrlok kept his head down and his mouth shut. They walked the hallways in silence for a time. Eventually, Amon broke the silence. "I see you two have become quite close."

Tarrlok didn't need to ask his brother what he meant, he already knew that Amon was talking about his burgeoning alliance with the Avatar. He hesitated to speak. If he said too much, he'd reveal his plan. If he said too little, he'd reveal his plan. But if he turned this on his captor… he might be able to put Amon on the defensive. Maybe. It was a stretch…

 _But it was worth a shot._

"Well, it's not like there's anyone else to talk to… the guards who bring us food don't have much to say to us, beyond the occasional threat and angry rant. And _Sato's_ not exactly the most _articulate_ conversationalist— _particularly when he's in a drunken fury_. And even then he only wanted to talk to the Avatar…" He didn't see any reaction from Amon.

Maybe he ought to make this a little more… _personal._

"She told me what you did to her." He didn't have to see a reaction; he felt the change in the air around them. There was a new tension and weight. He'd found a weak point; all he had to do was exploit it…

Tarrlok shot his brother an accusing glare. "After all these years, I was almost happy to see you again…"—he was a little worried that he'd end up with a broken nose for this, it was going to be a particularly low blow on his part— "but after all this…"—he took a deep breath and recalled how Korra had sounded after being publicly humiliated. She'd been frightened and listening to her try to bluff afterwards had been a brutal reminder of their circumstances. They'd lost the battle and now they were being punished for it. He let the hurt, the rage, the pain, and the bone deep sense of betrayal that still lingered from the day that Noatak had turned his back on their family emerge as he said, _"I've never been quite so ashamed and disgusted in my entire life."_

"Should I laugh?" Amon asked.

Tarrlok glanced at Amon, surprised at how his brother seemed entirely unmoved by his words. But he was also wary. After all, Amon was his brother; surely he had an equally nasty response to Tarrlok's dig.

"I'm being scolded by a corrupt politician." The reply was surgical, precise and well timed.

Tarrlok let out a furious growl and, without a thought, grabbed Amon by the arm and spun him around. He took hold of the equalist leader's lapel and tried to force him back against the wall. Amon didn't budge, but stared his brother down impassively through the knife-shaped eyeholes of that horrible mask.

Tarrlok thought he could almost read a look of quiet expectation in Amon's eyes. "It was one thing when she was the Avatar, but now she's just a seventeen-year-old girl! What kind of man _publically humiliates_ a helpless seventeen-year-old girl?" He hoped there were equalists around. He hoped they could hear him. He hoped they realized that their fearless leader was letting a prisoner talk to him like this. He hoped that they realized what kind of monster Amon was—that even someone as vile as Tarrlok found him utterly reprehensible.

Amon looked straight into Tarrlok's eyes. "I'd presume that it's the same kind of man who subdues a young woman with blood bending and locks her in a platinum box… with intentions to kidnap her and take her away from everyone and everything she holds dear."

Tarrlok flinched and his mouth snapped shut. He released Amon. The equalist leader calmly stepped away and continued down the passage as though the altercation between them had never happened. After a brief moment of shame, Tarrlok swallowed his disquiet and fell back into step behind his brother.

After Amon's little reprimand, Tarrlok wasn't sure what would be worse, conversing with his brother or lingering silence. If he struck up a conversation he'd probably end up with his words and actions twisted against him. But silence… Silence meant reflecting on his actions… that meant thinking about every single way he wasn't as good as his brother… or worse…

 _'You're just like Amon!'_

Those words had hurt. And they only hurt more now that he knew who Amon was. Now, he knew that he really was like Amon. They had the same father, the same goals, the same kind of bending… Amon was just better at everything.

Conversation was definitely the better option. So, Tarrlok asked, "What do you want me to say?"

Tarrlok half expected a sarcastic reply, but Amon surprised him. "You probably won't have much of an opportunity to speak, but if you must, I would like you to talk about how nice it is to not be a bender."

It was a sincere request, Tarrlok recognized that, but he wasn't about to just roll over and play nice. Instead, he gave a dry, humorless chuckle and said, "So, pretend to be you. Got it." The ex-councilman already knew that he'd play along—it was the best way to make himself a big damn hero and save the Avatar, after all, but if he could psychologically torture Amon while doing so, well… that was icing on the cake.

Even better, _his comment got a rise out of the equalist leader._

Amon turned and glared at Tarrlok. "Tarrlok, if you cooperate, I will provide you with comfortable surroundings and a more than adequate lifestyle. Perhaps you'd enjoy some _human companionship_ after your isolation? — I can make that happen. Easily."

Tarrlok didn't even bother to hide the smirk. This was the old carrot and stick trick. New accommodations and pleasing company were the carrot. He imagined that a worse cell and solitary confinement were probably the stick. And as much as Tarrlok didn't want to put up with worse accommodations, he also didn't really want to submit to his older brother.

So he challenged him. "Do you even know my type?" It was a subtle dig at how long it'd been since they'd seen each other. Maybe a bit of a low blow, but he couldn't resist.

Amon didn't rise to the baiting. Instead he turned to face Tarrlok fully. The ex-councilman could almost see the curve of his brother's raised eyebrows, delivering a singularly smug, knowing look. "I have an idea…"

Tarrlok had the decency to look a little embarrassed—he hadn't thought that he was being that obvious, but to his credit he didn't flinch. Instead, he smirked and gave a cunning reply. "You should know. It's the same type _you_ had all those years ago."

Tarrlok struggled to suppress the grin of triumph as a muscle in Amon's left arm visibly jumped. The ex-councilman had finally managed to provoke a response from his older brother. But he wasn't done baiting the equalist leader.

Tarrlok lifted a hand to his chin and gave a particularly nasty, smug grin—the sort of grin that said, 'I know you, and I know you're not going to like what I'm about to say, but I'm going to say it anyway.' And then he said, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you did all of this just to get a pretty girl into your bed."

Amon fixed him with a glare that would have made other men crumble and beg for their lives, but Tarrlok knew who was under the mask. And he didn't fear his moody older brother. Amon wanted him around for a reason and he suspected that his bother wouldn't jeopardize his plans. Nevertheless, the ex-councilman placated his brother. He lifted his hands in surrender and gave an almost mischievous smile. "I _do_ know better, _brother_. I get it."

Amon did not immediately accept the placating offer of surrender. Instead, he drew close to Tarrlok, leaning over him in what was a very successfully show of intimidation. "If you _ever_ want to see the sun again, Tarrlok, you will _avoid_ making comments of that nature where others can hear."

Tarrlok's eyes narrowed at his brother's words and the corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly. He wondered what Amon would think if he could hear his own words—so softly spoken, but so rough and raw with feeling… that was the sound of a man who was struggling against his baser impulses. _So. Amon had feelings for the young Avatar._ He wondered if his brother realized what he'd just given away… sure, Tarrlok didn't know what kind of feelings they were, but feelings—no matter what kind—could always be exploited _._ "I'll do my best."

Amon turned away. Tarrlok thought he heard the equalist leader huff before saying, "you always do."

After passing a few more doors, going down another flight of stairs, turning down a new hallway, and then stepping through a large, well-lit chamber, they came to a solitary door in a somewhat cleaner part of the equalist base. The door looked, for all intents and purposes, like every other door in the underground compound. Amon pushed it open and stepped inside. Apparently they'd reached their destination.

Tarrlok followed his brother and stepped into a large office-space. He looked around and took in the décor, or rather lack of décor. The walls were the same as the hallways with one exception; they were dotted with maps of the United Republic and Republic City. More than a few of the maps were marked with red ink—dotted lines, circles, strategically placed Xs. Tarrlok imagined that they revealed the strategies behind the Equalist Revolution… supply-lines, major bases and meeting locations throughout the city, and targeted locations…

 _If only he had a way of memorizing every single one… once he was out, he'd be able to help the United Forces and the Four Nations destroy the Revolution with a series of precise, brutal blows…_

Unfortunately, while he could recall the route from the cells to this office, there was no way he'd be able to recall the details of the maps without careful study. He didn't think he'd have another opportunity like this again for a long time—he was even surprised that Amon had brought him into this room. And even with careful scrutiny, it wasn't like he'd have the opportunity to escape any time soon…

Tarrlok sighed. He'd have to keep his efforts manageable and right now manageable efforts were limited to sassing his brother. So, he said, "nice office." And then, after casting far more obvious look around, he gave his brother a superior, smug look. "Mine had windows."

Amon didn't even look up from the papers and files that he was shuffling through. "We can't _all_ have the best cells in headquarters."

Tarrlok crossed his arms and sneered at his brother's cool quip. Amon continued to pay him no mind. Finally, the ex-councilman wandered over to the stand beside his brother. "I thought you were going to show me off to the equalists—you know, your first pet ex-bender."

"I have more important things to do with my time." He seemed to be carefully adjusting several stacks of files on his desk.

Tarrlok realized what his brother was doing and let out a burst of humorless laughter. " _Paperwork._ You're doing _paperwork_." He supposed that even the leader of a revolution had to deal with bureaucracy, but it'd never really occurred to him before that moment that Amon had to fill out forms…

Another missed opportunity. He could have just commandeered all the local mail orders and gone through all the forms, looking for the name 'Amon.' Spirits, he didn't even have to _look_ for that name, he'd have just had to figure out who was placing all the orders for chi-blocker uniforms. It would have made everything so easy.

 _But taskforces were better PR…_

He watched as Amon continued to sift through the files. "Are you looking for something in particular?"

Amon stopped sorting. "You're going to give me a hand."

Tarrlok smirked at Amon. "Is that what this is all about? You could have just _asked, brother_. I'll show you how to sign papers and review memos, _no trouble at all_."

Amon glared at Tarrlok. "I think I liked you better crumpled in a cell." The equalist leader grabbed the large pile of files to his right and handed them over to Tarrlok. "Look through these."

Tarrlok flipped through the uppermost files in the pile. They were all profiles of elite members of the Northern Water Tribe, "So… going North first?" He kept his tone casual. He didn't want to sound worried or upset, but the thought of the equalists storming the beautiful ice palaces of the capital made his blood run cold with rage and his heart ache with nationalistic longing—he hadn't been home in years.

 _He regretted it now…_

 _He'd left a lot behind, in the North…_

 _…was she still even alive, after all this time?_

 _…their mother?_

The thought of their mother startled him. He felt a twinge of shame. He'd stopped writing to her some time ago and now he didn't even know if she was alive or dead in that tiny village they'd once called home.

He didn't look at his brother and continued to flip through the files, trying to come up with a good reason for Amon to leave the North alone. He could feel Amon watching him, studying him, probably reading his pulse and extrapolating his feeling from there. Was there even a point in trying to conceal anything from him?

 _Yes, but he had to have incredible self-control in order to conceal his emotions._

He focused on keeping himself calm and quickly came up with a rational, legitimate reason for Amon to keep his armies away from the North. "It's a bad idea, you know. Unalaq got into the habit of scouting the most talented and ruthless benders from every village. You don't want to go toe-to-toe with that army unless you have one at least three times its size at your back." He turned back to Amon and offered the files to him. "Might I suggest the Earth Kingdom, instead? I hear they're quite unstable at the moment."

Amon did not take the files from his younger brother. "Your advice is appreciated, but I thought that you might provide another piece of insight. Someone sent a missive last night demanding the immediate return of the Avatar on pain of unknown consequences. I'm certain that it's from someone on the Northern Council, but they'd have to have ties to the South. What can you tell me?"

Tarrlok blinked at Amon in surprise and responded without thinking. "Every member of the Northern Senate Council has ties to the South."

Amon turned to face his brother fully, straightening and folding his hands behind his back as he did so. "What?"

"The North sent a massive population of warriors and civilians to help rebuild the Southern Tribe. Most of that support came directly from the council and their families—it was the best way to get rid of second and third sons, after all. Not to mention the glut of widows and orphaned girls, and _they'd_ be untraceable since they'd have taken their husband's names. Even Chief Unalaq has family down there." Tarrlok paused then and blinked, he squinted thoughtfully and focused on a point above the only door in the room as he tried to recall when he'd heard about Unalaq's Southern relatives.

He couldn't pinpoint exactly when he'd learned of it, or from whom… "… I _think_ he has relatives in the South…" But he could have sworn that whoever had mentioned it had said something about Sokka being an in-law… It'd been yet another reason to cling to the brilliant Chief's coattails.

Amon let out a heavy sigh and reached up to touch the bridge of his mask's nose. "So it could have been any of them?" Amon gestured to the other piles of files and Tarrlok realized that his brother had been trying to narrow down the list of suspects… there were at least seventy-five members of the High Northern Senate Council. The Lower Council consisted of one-hundred-fifty men and older women—widows of powerful councilmen who'd taken their husband's places…

Tarrlok calmly set the stack in his hands back on the desk and began to look through the two piles of files. He had half a mind to try and sabotage his brother, but he was just as curious as Amon. Besides, he could use the information to develop a decent escape plan—one with powerful allies on the outside. Maybe he could even start smuggling information out and leverage the power of his allies to win himself clemency...

 _But he could only implement a plan if he knew something._

They needed a starting point. "What did the note say?"

Amon leaned over the desk and crossed his arms. He looked tense, even with the mask on. "I never got a look at it. I was informed that the message was formally written, made mention of blood and honor, and instructed us to surrender the Avatar or else."

Tarrlok nodded thoughtfully. "Alright." He set his stack of files on top of the other. And picked up the first file. "And it was sent by…?"

"Telegraph."

Tarrlok considered the files. "They'd have to know that telegraphs exist. That cuts the number of suspects down by half…" He went through the pile quickly. Most members of the high council didn't bother with new technology so most of them were out.

"And you said they used a notably formal tone and mentioned blood and honor?"

Amon nodded and watched as Tarrlok calmly and efficiently began pulling several other files from the stack of possible relatives.

"There go the progressives… and most of the women," Tarrlok muttered. He hesitated then. Korra had said that she had an uncle of influence up north at one point, hadn't she? That meant that _all_ the women were out...

 _But Amon didn't need to know that..._

He had an edge at last.

He picked up the remaining files and flipped through them. "They'd have to have enough clout to get away with hit…" He tossed aside several more files. "Now, let's weed out the ones who definitely don't have anyone left or couldn't care less about their own blood." He plucked a few more files out of his hand and discarded them. He handed the remaining files to Amon.

Amon looked through the files that Tarrlok had given him. "Only five. Impressive."

"Yes." Tarrlok folded his arms and stroked his chin thoughtfully. "And they're all quite influential. I wish I'd known about this, it would have made some things significantly easier…" Like getting Korra to do what he wanted.

"Of course." Amon began to peruse the files carefully. "Thank you, brother. I can plan for whatever attack they organize against us." Even Tarrlok knew that 'thanks' was spectacularly backhanded.

Tarrlok, however, wasn't about to let his older brother get to him again. "Of course." Tarrlok folded his hands behind his back and calmly met his brother's quiet gaze. "If you received the message last night, then we have about a week before the Avatar's relative makes a move." Which meant he had less than a week to get into Amon's good graces, figure out who Korra's relative really was, contact them, and arrange a brutal strike against the equalists that Amon would never see coming… great.

"That's what I figured." Amon looked at him and tilted his head to one side ever so slightly. "You're being very cooperative."

"I was curious and Korra refused to discuss it." Tarrlok guessed that Amon already knew what he was planning. Amon had probably already anticipated his moves and planned around him.

"She's aware of them?" Amon straightened and stared at his brother in surprise. "I thought the Avatar was not permitted to have close ties to politically influential relatives at a young age."

Tarrlok shrugged. "Allowances were made, probably due to their status as family. She quieted down after Sato's little episode and wouldn't say a word about it—she thought it was pointless. I imagine she'll recover her optimism eventually." She'd likely cheer up faster if he got the chance to tell her that her family was coming to save her, but he was willing to bet that Amon was not going to put him back in the same block as Korra. "Now what?"

Amon turned and made his way to the door. "I have some speeches to make. The equalists go back to war in three days. I need to rally my troops."

Tarrlok glanced around the room uncertainly. He didn't see any equalist guards around. He was alone with Amon and it sounded like his older brother was heading directly off to put on a big equalist show. "Will I be joining you?"

Amon turned and stood calmly and patiently beside the open door with his hands folded behind his back. "Yes."

Tarrlok snorted and folded his arms over his chest. "A reward for good behavior?"

Amon tilted his head and nodded calmly. "That's a good way to think of it."

Tarrlok sighed and moved to follow Amon. The equalist leader led him down a series of passageways to a large open room. It was a massive garage-space packed with pristine Sato mobiles, tanks, and every other type of ground transport imaginable.

At first Tarrlok could only gape in astonishment. "Sato did all of this for…?"

Amon stepped over to a mechanical platform as he said, "Sato has been a most generous benefactor." Once again, Tarrlok could almost feel the smugness radiating off of Amon.

Nevertheless, he looked out at the cars and sighed longingly. Amon, he realized, had every right to be smug. Tarrlok would have _killed_ to get these resources. All he could think about was how many favors he'd had to do for Mr. Sato in order to get the man to support him…

Well, Sato's alliances were now readily apparent. And Tarrlok couldn't help but wonder if Amon had been forced to do anything for Sato? Or had Sato fallen into step out of admiration for the charismatic equalist leader?

Amon's voice broke him out of his musing. "Tarrlok. Come here."

Tarrlok joined his brother on the platform, which lowered to the garage floor. The ex-councilman obediently followed his brother to a lavish Satomobile; its graceful curves—decked out in equalist deep reds, charcoals, and off-whites—seemed to glow in the dim light of the garage. A group of equalist soldiers were caring for pristine, beautiful vehicle. He took a seat in the back beside his brother. An equalist soldier took the driver's seat and started up the engine.

The beautiful, buttery Satomobile purred to life. But Tarrlok almost couldn't feel the vibrations of the engine. The machine was by far the most exquisite, perfect thing he'd ever had the pleasure of riding in.

When Tarrlok had tried to imagine how Amon lived and worked, he'd never dreamed that the Equalist Leader enjoyed any luxuries. He'd imagined that Amon lived in stark conditions in some remote underground, spider roach infested lair. Clearly he was wrong…

 _Maybe being an Equalist wouldn't be too bad?_

He nearly choked at the thought. He couldn't really have considered…? But as appalling as the thought was, it appealed to him. It would be so easy to bend to his brother and fall in line and just play the role—he imagined that he'd become quite useful as the Revolution progressed… particularly with his knowledge…

 _But that was what this display was about, wasn't it? This was temptation._

Tarrlok turned a careful, studious gaze on his brother. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Amon had watched him all these years. Amon knew him and how he worked. There were probably all kinds of files on him… on everything he'd done to gain power and wealth and what he'd done with that power and wealth.

He turned and looked down at his hands. He leaned forward in his seat, hunching his back. He felt vulnerable—he didn't want his brother to see him like this and he didn't want the driver watching him in the rear-view mirror. The driver had been glancing back at him from the moment he'd gotten into the Satomobile. Tarrlok rested his elbows on his knees and his hands hung free and unchained—it still surprised him that Amon was so confident as to leave him unchained…

 _But Amon knew him so well..._

Amon already knew he wouldn't waste his time fighting. Amon already knew that he loved to be surrounded beautiful and fine things; he'd been obvious in his tastes. Tarrlok had enjoyed a beautiful house in Republic City, the best vehicles, the finest food, and he tried to surround himself with the most desirable women… _tried_ being the operative term. He wasn't the best when it came to women.

This was more than a ride in a fancy car, just like that little exercise back in that office had been more than a test of Tarrlok's willingness to work with Amon. Amon was showing his little brother what he could have and telling him exactly what he needed to do to get it. And, damn it all, the ex-councilman could feel himself starting to succumb to the temptations.

"We're here." Amon's solemn voice pulled Tarrlok from his meditations.

Tarrlok glanced out the driver's side window. His mouth fell open and his eyes grew wide. He was being treated to a view of City Hall Square decked out in equalist colors. Amon's face and the word for Equality were emblazoned on every visible surface. Mecha-tanks patrolled the streets acting as crowd control and additional protection and he could see a massive crowd of people assembling in the central square.

 _Could they really beat this?_

A firm hand gripped his shoulder; he turned quickly and nearly jerked back when he found himself faced with the equalist leader himself. The angle of his brother's face made it look like the mask was grinning smugly at him. Suddenly the car was too small, too confining. He wanted to run away and hide somewhere far away. Everything around him was wrong.

But he composed himself quickly. He didn't want Amon to see him afraid. He needed to put on a strong face for the sake of his dignity and for Korra, who was still locked away in her cell. He got out of the car and followed behind Amon obediently—knowing that as long as he was passive, Amon would let him see things and know things that no one else in his little empire might be privy.

 _If he wanted to be the hero of Republic City and save this place from destruction, he'd need every advantage that he could get. Because he was clearly up against a man that non-benders treated like a God._

Tarrlok took his time looking around again and took careful notice of the banners and machinery. He wondered briefly why it bothered him so much—but the answer came to him almost as soon as he asked himself the question. He recalled seeing something similar in the history books that described the Hundred Years War.

The banners, the posters—he glanced at the stage and did a double take at the sight of a massive rendition of Amon's face leering down at him menacingly. This looked like the same kind of propaganda that had made Fire Lord Ozai so formidable. This was the same kind of all-consuming propagation of ideology that had once created armies that marched on the world and kept going until there was nothing left.

 _Amon was the new Fire Lord and his equalists were the new Fire Nation. It was happening all over again, but this time they had the Avatar. This time there might not be a way to stop this…_

But Tarrlok had to try for his own sake and for the sake of Republic City.

 _He had to prove that he wasn't second best, no matter what._

So, Amon wanted to be Ozai? Fine, he would be Zuko to Amon's Ozai. He would bring Amon down and put an end to this Equalist nonsense once and for all. He would teach the Avatar what she needed to know… somehow…

 _He would come out of this one top._

Tarrlok was so caught up in his thoughts that he almost didn't hear Amon's next words, but when they registered he felt his blood run cold. "I trust you assembled the council members?"

The man with the mustache and electricity pack nodded briskly. "Yes, Amon." Ah. That would be Amon's lieutenant. Another face to add to the list of Amon's closest and most valued allies.

"I'd hoped to present the Avatar to the world today, but the Council of Republic City will have to do." Amon said the words casually, but there was something in his stance and the very fact that he'd said anything suggested intense displeasure.

The lieutenant grimaced, but bowed respectfully and, perhaps, a little too deeply. "Of course."

Tarrlok smirked in pleasure. So, it looked like Amon's lieutenant was in the doghouse for screwing up… but hadn't Amon already shown off the Avatar? What was he so pissed off about?

 _Oh, of course, his plans weren't going smoothly… which meant the Avatar had been defanged prematurely…_

 _That humiliation then…_

Tarrlok's eyes widened in comprehension.

 _Korra had taken his place…_

He didn't know how to feel about that.

Amon turned to a group of fifteen equalists—they all stood like perfect little soldiers, all awaiting their orders. "You four," the equalist leader pointed to a group of equalists near the front of the small assembly, "will manage Councilman Tarrlok."

Tarrlok spoke up, "Please, Amon. It's _ex_ -councilman Tarrlok."

Amon didn't turn to acknowledge him, but only said, "You are who I say you are, councilman."

What did that mean? What did Amon stand to gain by calling Tarrlok a council member? What was the point of it?

 _Well…_

As long as the equalists viewed him as a councilman and not an ex-councilman his cooperation would lend legitimacy to the equalist cause. Not to mention that the council's legitimacy and authority would be undermined in the eyes of the people. After all, what kind of council allowed a blood bender into their ranks? And the icing on top—it was an act of kindness, of mercy, just another little reminder that Amon would forgive him, pardon him, give him a chance while the council would not.

Really, emphasizing his status, giving him a bit of his dignity back, it was a strategic move.

Tarrlok watched as Amon addressed the subordinates that would be keeping an eye on the blood bender. "You will take him, directly, to sit in the wings, stage left. He must not be seen or heard by the audience, but he will not be gagged as long as he cooperates." Amon turned to him then and gave him a pointed look. "You will cooperate, won't you Councilman Tarrlok?"

Tarrlok folded his hands politely behind his back and calmly nodded. "Yes, Amon. I will cooperate." He would cooperate for as long as it took for him to move himself into a good position to take down the Revolution. "After all, it seems I have recovered my title and I have my own entourage, what more could I want?" He joked.

Amon glanced over his shoulder at Tarrlok. "You will also have the best view in the house, councilman. You should be honored." With that, Amon turned and addressed his subordinates one last time. "Make sure he keeps his mouth shut. I don't want any interruptions. I want him to hear everything I have to say."

Tarrlok watched as Amon strode toward the stage. He was escorted to a small, wooden chair in the left wing. The 'councilman' made himself comfortable. He already knew that he wasn't going anywhere. The four equalist foot soldiers stood around him, poised and ready—one wrong move and he'd be punished. So he might as well sit back and enjoy Amon's little show.

And even if he did escape, where could he go to hide? The sewers? He was a known blood bender and being a known blood bender was a capital offense in most countries. Even if he got out of The United Republic and made it to another nation, he'd still end up in jail. Really, he was stuck unless he saved the Avatar and made himself a big damn hero.

But that had always been the plan: get the Avatar on his side and on his task force, save the city from equalists, become its sole commander in chief in the process, disband the council, win the heart of the Avatar, and become a global power. He recognized that, as dismal as his circumstances were, he still had a chance at achieving his goal. He just needed a new plan, one that got the Avatar and himself out of Republic City…

Tarrlok's train of thought was interrupted by his brother's big entrance—and what an entrance. Amon and his equalists rose out of the floor of the stage, shrouded by artificial smoke, and the sound of drums echoed through the park. An MC's voice rose over the roar of the drums, the creak and strain of shifting gears, and the frenzy of the crowd; _"Please, welcome your illustrious leader! The New Avatar! Amon!"_

The crowd went wild.

When the smoke cleared, Amon stepped forward and began his speech. Suddenly Tarrlok understood why his people worshiped him. The way he moved around the stage—like he owned it, like he had every right to be there; the way he spoke—his tone changing and shifting, creating a sense of suspense as he wove a story around his audience… he was captivating. He was charisma and authority given human form—more than a man or even a symbol.

 _He was a personality._

Even more, Amon was a personality strong enough, magnetic enough, to draw in those who saw him. He was like a whirlpool, sucking in anyone who got to close and pulling them down toward his center. A man like this—no!— _a persona like this_ _was made to be worshiped_ , _idealized_. So a cult had formed to worship him and his ideals.

As Amon reached a crescendo in his speech, his voice boomed out over the audience. His words were crisp and clear, persuasive and they seemed so honest and real... it made Tarrlok sick.

This was a show, a grand drama that Amon was putting on, and the equalists were eating up the fiction that their leader had woven for them. And that was at least in part because this was such a splendid display of power and grandiosity. Everyone was so caught up the narrative, they couldn't tell that they were being hoodwinked.

Clearly, his brother had a flare for the dramatic. Tarrlok found it somewhat surprising, he couldn't imagine where Amon had gotten that particular _something more_. Noatak had never cared for grand displays. He'd been a no-nonsense kid. A child that favored the utilitarian over the superficial and the showy…

 _… except when it came to stories…_

Noatak had always been such a good storyteller. He'd been the best storyteller who told the best stories. He'd had a great memory for plots and narratives and when he couldn't remember the story, he'd improvise so well that even the elders couldn't tell if the traditional story was the true telling or if Noatak's version was the right one.

Tarrlok recalled how Noatak's abilities had inspired his own public speaking. The councilman had done his best to cultivate his talents based on how Noatak had moved and spoken. He tried to emulate his brother's ability to capture the attention of everyone simply using the sound of his voice. As a boy he'd occasionally joked—and never when their father could hear—that Noatak wasn't so much a blood bender, but a voice bender, someone who could control people with his words and presence.

But this was on a different level.

Where had he learned to speak like that? Where had he learned to move like that? How had he learned to command like that?

Suddenly he understood Korra's fear. Even if Amon was lying, the conviction and power behind his voice and stance was impossible to ignore. Amon could not be stopped. He was a force of nature. Even if his revolution turned on him, he would keep going. He believed in this so much. Equalist ideology was written into his soul. This was pure fanaticism.

Tarrlok was once again put in mind of the Fire Lord of the Hundred Year's War. He couldn't help but think that his brother was gone, that all that was left was the figurehead. The man whose face leered down on the assembly from every flat surface in the park was not a human being anymore. All that remained was the center of the whirlpool, drawing everyone in.

He now understood what Amon was trying to do. He was trying to suck Tarrlok in; he was trying to bring the ex-councilman into his power, because Tarrlok would let him drag in others. He wanted to continue to expand his pull until the force of this single person pulled everyone in the world into his grip.

Tarrlok closed his eyes and lowered his head for a moment, drawing a deep breath, before turning his attention back to the Equalist Leader who stood center stage—eloquently weaving another tale to inspire rage and hatred. And the crowd, adoring, swallowed his poison happily. They wanted it too badly to ever consider the harm they were doing not just to themselves and the world, but to Amon himself. Their ready acceptance affirmed his madness and encouraged it.

Amon had to fall. He needed to fall soon. In order for that to happen, Tarrlok needed leverage. So, what did have to use as leverage? The Avatar trusted him—he'd managed to convince her that he was an ally. He had Sato to thank for that.

He already knew that Amon needed the Avatar in order to establish his seat of power in the world. Even if she was a symbol of the old order that the Equalists were trying to crush, the Avatar was a powerful icon. She was a living mandate from heaven, particularly where Republic City was concerned. A union or even alliance between Amon and the Avatar would give the Equalists legitimacy.

Tarrlok also suspected that Amon wanted the Avatar for other reasons, but was either unprepared to admit it, or simply didn't realize it yet. Noatak had been stupid like that—disconnected from his own emotions by a thick wall of logic and rationalizations. If Amon were anyone else, Tarrlok wouldn't have even thought of it, but he still knew his brother. Kind of…

Maybe he could convince Korra to go along with the Equalist leader and win him over. If she seduced him and rendered him vulnerable, then they'd have a better chance at taking down Amon and his Equalists. A man in love was half-blind after all…

Of course his mind immediately set to work picturing Korra being seductive and, perhaps, seducing Amon. He wasn't too happy about the 'Amon' part of the image, but seductive Korra definitely got a reaction; he felt his blood heat a little and his mouth dried. She'd look good in something a little more feminine that showed off a little more skin…

But then he _really_ thought about it.

Korra. Seducing Amon.

Korra—clumsy, violent, reckless, aggressive, lion bull in a Fire Nation ceramics shop, fake it till you make it, never left the shelter of the White Lotus and the South Pole until four months ago, Korra. THAT Korra. Not fantasy Korra. _THAT_ Korra. Trying to seduce Amon.

Did… _did she even know what to do with a man?_

The answer to that question was obvious. This was the girl who told him she hadn't really understood what money was until she'd arrived in Republic City a few months ago.

Tarrlok winced and flinched as a series of new mental images sprung into his head. None of them resulted in a grand escape. They mostly involved Korra losing her temper or making a complete fool of herself by accidentally breaking or destroying something. He could only picture two real outcomes to any seduction plan. Korra would accidently unman Amon in a clumsy attempt at being seductive, or end up thoroughly seduced herself. One outcome got them both killed and put Amon permanently on the warpath. The other meant that they'd be trapped with the Equalists indefinitely, _because love_.

There had to be another way…

The young, naïve Avatar had to be kept out of the line of fire, of that Tarrlok was certain. But how? What else was there? It wasn't like using his brother's old favorite foods would be a feasible way of trapping him. And Amon's fears had probably changed since he was a child. Tarrlok sorely doubted that Amon would start getting worked up over the mere mention of face-stealer Koh. Amon was a grown man, not a child frightened by fire-side stories…

Tarrlok let his attention and focus shift back to the speech. Yes, Amon was masterful on the stage. The ex-councilman was beginning to doubt that exposing the Equalist Leader for who he really was would have that much of an impact. At best, revealing the truth would divide the revolution. At worst it would do nothing at all since no one would believe anything without proof and Tarrlok was certain that Amon had covered all his bases.

The bulk of the speech outlined the current situation. The Four Nations and the United Forces were going to march on Republic City soon, but the Equalists would be ready to fight them and defend their home. On the whole, the impending war was terrifying and dire, but Amon didn't make it sound that way.

Once again, Tarrlok found himself impressed by Amon's technique. From any other commander, the news that they were facing a massive international army that would be coming at them from almost every direction would have been devastating and disheartening news. But Amon treated the coming brutal, relentless invasion as a victory.

Tarrlok supposed that from a certain perspective this impending war _was_ a victory. The bending nations of the world now considered the Equalists a potent threat. Non-benders were being taken seriously, they were inspiring fear in the 'bending elite,' and now the world was paying attention to them.

Tarrlok couldn't see the crowd, but he could hear them come alive before Amon. They rallied behind his leadership and his powerful voice. They ate up everything that Amon said and were clearly hungry for more even as Amon's voice rang out across the assembly.

[] [] [] END CHAPTER 4 [] [] []

And One More Thing: _**AMON TOP OF THE WORLD!**_


	5. Consequences

**Reminder:** Equal Measure will be on break until January. I'll hopefully have Part 2; Act 1 Finished by then which means a 10 Chapter Buffer. We open Chapter 6 with Tonraq and Senna! More announcements to come...

 **Part 1: Intrigue**  
 **Act 3: It Begins**  
 **Chapter 5: Consequences**

 **A/N:** _Old chauvinistic culture is old chauvinistic culture..._

 _ **Trigger Warning: Contemplation of Suicide, Death Wish**_

Korra sat on the edge of her cot in her cell and wondered when Tarrlok would be brought back. She hadn't thought it possible, but she was growing fond of the blood bending councilman. It was probably because he was the only person who'd spoken to her with any amount of respect or kindness over the past few…

…days…?

…weeks…?

Ugh. She didn't even know how long she'd been stuck in this place. Day and night blended together in the dim cell, so the passage of time became undefined.

She sighed heavily and pouted as she stared down at the sheets on her bed. She didn't want to be alone right now. She wanted some company. She wanted someone to talk to her and distract her from her situation.

She didn't want to think about being alone in this miserable cell or what Amon might do to her…

 _What Amon might do to her…_

Korra shivered and grimaced in disgust.

Tarrlok's comment about a political marriage was still bothering her. She wanted to ask the councilman more about what he'd meant by that. He couldn't have been serious, right? Amon wouldn't really go ahead and make her his wife, would he? She wouldn't be stuck with the equalist leader forever?

 _Would she?_

She couldn't imagine anything more horrible than being stuck with Amon forever. She'd probably spend the rest of her life locked up in a cell. The Equalists would come by with food and they'd pay visits to taunt her and mock her. She'd never see Mako or Bolin or Asami or Tezin or her parents ever again.

She huffed and lay back on the cot and covered her eyes with her wrists. It would be so horrible…

 _But would it really be like that?_

 _Would she really be locked in a cell for the entire thing?_

She rolled over, pulled her arms to her chest, and stared at the wall.

Marriage was a big deal. She remembered when she was very small, before she'd been identified as the Avatar, and her mother's friends and neighbors had come down to visit. The women had delighted in girly things and had insisted on playing dress-up with Korra.

Korra had hated it, because she'd had to hold still for so long and she'd wanted to go outside and run around. But her parents had told her that she had to be nice to her aunties, so she'd sulked while her the women had worked on her.

And her aunties had talked endlessly while she worked on dressing up Korra. They'd talked about how Korra looked like her mother and would certainly grow up to be very beautiful. They'd said that Tonraq would have to beat men off with a stick and that Korra would have suitors lining up at the front door… and then they'd told Korra all about how she'd 'be a lovely bride one day.' The women had then proceeded to plan out the entirety of Korra's wedding. From the kind of dress Korra ought to wear for a more modern or traditional ceremony, to the number of people who would come…

When Korra thought about everything her aunties had told her and discussed among themselves, she began to realize that a marriage to Amon probably wouldn't be a small thing. And, if she recalled correctly, 'the more important the person, the bigger the ceremony'… which meant that if or when she married Amon, it would be a huge event. Everyone who could be there, would be there.

She'd wear a dress and make-up and her hair would be done up…

She closed her eyes tightly to try and block out the vision of herself in a one of those Republic City wedding dresses, standing on the steps of City Hall next to Amon. The world would be looking at her. It would be so much worse than the humiliation.

If she married him… would he expect her to act like a wife after? Would she have to treat him the way that her mother treated her father? Would she have to get up early every day and make him his meals, look after his clothes, check over whatever hunting tools he had before he went out on the ice…?—Well, Amon didn't have hunting tools, so she'd probably be dealing with his dumb uniform and his mask. Miss Aput had been married to a man who carved masks. She always smelled of oil, preservatives, tanning fluids, polish, and paint.

Just remembering the smell made Korra grimace. Everyone always said that Miss Aput couldn't smell anything after all the work she did to help her husband. Would that be her life? Looking after his dumb mask every morning until she smelled gross and couldn't smell anything at all anymore?

What about Fong's stories about the best kind of woman, being the sort who was good with her hands and oil? He always talked about that one girl who he swore he'd marry—she'd take cooling oils and rub them on the mess of scar tissue that was his face every evening, massaging them into the burned skin. Would Korra have to do that for Amon?

She shuddered and pulled her knees to her chest as she tucked her hands under her neck defensively.

She wasn't going to put her hands anywhere near his face.

But… there were other questions. Far more frightening questions that were pushing their way to the surface and Korra couldn't seem to stop herself from wondering…

 _Would he expect her to share his bed?_

 _Would she have to wake up next to him every day for the rest of her life?_

Her stomach churched. The very thought of waking up next to the man who had taken everything from her every morning made her feel sick.

 _… Would they have to have sex?_

Korra gagged and threw herself off the cot. She paced around the room restlessly. She was angry. She was scared. She was disgusted. She refused to even consider the physical act of sex, just the thought of the _concept_ of having sex with Amon made her want to throw up.

 _She wouldn't do it!_

No one was _ever_ going to make her do it!

Ugh… _'do it'_ … ew!

How old was Amon anyway? He didn't seem particularly young—nowhere close to her age. Tarrlok had said that Amon was his older brother. How much older? Was Amon only a few years older than Tarrlok or was he Tenzin's age?

 _Was he older than Tenzin?!_

 _What if he was… balding? What if he had smooth, wrinkly, old people skin?_

Korra had nothing against old people, she knew plenty of awesome old people, but the thought of being made to touch the skin of a wrinkly old man… all over… in bed… The thought of wrinkled, arthritic hands touching her breasts and stomach and hips… of lying in bed next to an old man, with his old man smell and his old man humors…

She gagged. She felt like she was going to puke.

She kept moving, walking around the cell until she felt too tired and too bored to continue. She dropped back onto her cot and curled up in a ball.

She tried to comfort herself.

Surely it was possible that he might come up with a different plan? Surely there was a chance that he wouldn't marry her? Marriage wasn't the only option!

She closed her eyes tightly and tried to think of any sign that he had another course of action. Suddenly she remembered what he'd said to her at Avatar Aang memorial island:

 _Benders of every nation would rally behind your untimely demise…_

Her eyes snapped open and her mouth fell open. She drew in a sharp breath. She'd never told anyone what he'd said to her that night. She hated thinking about that night. She still had nightmares about being surrounded by Equalists and staring up at Amon as he bore down on her.

Tarrlok had suggested that a political marriage was probably on the table, but what if he was wrong? What if Amon was going to kill her?

She closed her eyes tightly and fought back tears. Death or marriage. A quick, brutal death or a lifetime of misery and imprisonment?

Death seemed like the better option. She would rather die than willingly sleep with Amon.

 _Sleep with…_

 _Amon…_

She suddenly found herself recalling that time when she was five years old and she'd run away in the middle of spring and wandered into the otter penguin breeding grounds. She recalled her confusion at being chased around by furious males, who'd been barking and biting at her. And then she'd witnessed her shock when the males had jumped on one of the females and…

At the time she'd thought they were fighting, but then Katara had arrived and set her straight. The males had been 'mounting' the females to breed with them. Korra had learned many things that she hadn't necessarily intended to learn that day… and she didn't want to think about those lessons right now…

Her mind, however, was busily crafting a vivid image of Amon otter penguin 'mounting' Korra otter penguin.

This time she did puke. She rushed to the designated toilet in the corner of the cell and vomited up the contents of her stomach. As she heaved and gasped and retched over the dingy hole in the floor she swore that she'd never let anything remotely close to that horrible mental image come to pass.

When there was nothing left in her stomach, Korra meandered back over to her cot and sat down on it. She put her head in her hands and took several deep breaths. She struggled to swallow down the lingering taste of her vomit—there wasn't any water in the cell to wash her mouth out so she had to deal with it they only way she could…

 _She hoped he'd kill her…_

… but… if she did survive. If she did have to marry him… then at least there was a chance that she could find a way to fix this. Maybe there'd be an opportunity to escape? If she could just get out of Republic City, then she might be able to rally her forces and take back Republic City. Maybe she'd even save the world from Amon and his Equalists…. All she had to do was live long enough to escape.

She closed her eyes and rolled onto her back. She opened her eyes slowly stared up at the ceiling. This was all so strange. She'd never thought about any of this before. She hadn't considered what might happen and what her options were if things went south. She'd always assumed that she'd win the fight and come home a hero.

 _I assumed…_

her teacher's voices rang out in her head. _'You're so thoughtless, Korra!'_

Korra frowned sharply and turned over to stare at the far wall.

She really was thoughtless, wasn't she?

Her hand came up to cover her head. Her fingers tangled in loose hair. Her eyes narrowed, her vision blurred, and she felt the tell-tale flush rise in her face. Amon had taken her hair pieces. They'd been a gift from her father. He'd worn them when he'd been young.

First, Amon had taken her bending. Then he'd taken her freedom, and then her dignity. Most recently he'd taken her hair ornaments, one of her few possessions that represented a tie to her family. In a way, he was taking her family from her—it was like Hiroshi had said, she'd never see her family again. She knew now that it would not be the last thing he took from her. He would take her life, either by killing her, or by marrying her.

She hoped that he'd kill her. She hoped that he'd put her to death, because she knew that once she married him he wouldn't stop taking from her. And now, because there was nothing to distract her from the direction of her thoughts, she was starting to realize how much he could take from her.

She began to cry in earnest. For her bending, for her freedom, for the loss of her dignity, for the loss of something that connected her to her family… and for everything he could take from her. For everything he would take from her as time wore on.

She was scared and alone and she wished Tarrlok were here, at least he'd talk to her. Fill the silence with pointless, trivial facts and political banter. At least then she wouldn't be alone. She didn't want to be alone with her thoughts anymore.

Eventually she ran out of tears to cry and the strength to cry them. She pressed her face into a pillow and wondered, for the first time, if she should kill herself. There might be some dignity in that, some small comfort in at least having enough control over her own life to take it. A part of her couldn't believe that she was contemplating suicide, but with everything she could imagine Amon doing to her, she felt if might be a good idea.

She lifted her face up and rested her chin on the pillow. Her eyes drifted aimlessly around the cell. Then something caught her eye. There was a dull, soft light shining in a darkened corner. She watched as it brightened and dimmed slowly—like breathing.

She sat up and looked around the cell. The strange glow had no natural source. It was nearly underneath the small, narrow window and there weren't any Equalists around to shine a light into her cell.

Korra stared at the dull, fuzzy light. She watched it grow brighter and dim, in and out, slowly. Every time it lit up, it grew brighter, and every time it dimmed, it dimmed a little less. As she watched, the light began to distinguish itself—what she'd taken for an amorphous orb, became two, distinct orbs.

As the orbs grew brighter, the hairs on the back of her neck began to stand on end. Something in her gut told her that the orbs were eyes and that the eyes were looking at her. Watching her.

[] [] []

Tarrlok watched as Amon wrapped up his speech and made his grand exit. An equalist approached the councilman and his small chi-blocker entourage, informing them that they were to join Amon for a reception at Equalist Island—which Tarrlok soon learned was the new name for Air Bender Island. He gave his guards no trouble while they escorted him to the boat that would take them to Equalist Island Base and did his best to enjoy the scent of saltwater and fresh air while he could.

He knew he'd be back in a cell again before the day was out. And he imagined his new cell would be some distance from Korra's. Which brought him to another concern—if he was going to save the Avatar and come up with an escape plan with her he'd need access to her. So. How did he get access to the Avatar without arousing Amon's suspicions…?

Really, if Tarrlok had known that Amon was going to be so generous with him, he'd have told Korra to throw the biggest fit possible in order to force Amon to bring him back to see her on occasion. Of course that meant that they'd need a code to communicate, because Amon would not just leave them alone together. He was certain they'd be watched at all times.

Tarrlok leaned back into his seat on the boat and sighed heavily. He watched the sky race by above his head; it was a beautiful blue that was only marred by the occasional fluffy white cloud. The blue reminded him of the North Pole. Suddenly he felt homesick. He missed his mother and the small village he'd come from.

 _It was too late to try and go home now._

Really, the situation was starting to look hopeless. He just wanted to close his eyes and forget about everything. He clenched his jaw and forced himself to focus and think about a way out. The Avatar was counting on him. He finally had her in the perfect position to win her over and pull her into his power for good. He could not let this chance slip away.

He spent the rest of the boat-ride to the island focused on trying to come up with a plan. By the time they arrived, he had an idea. It was a risky one and it was dangerous, but it would work. He just had to win his brother's trust and go along with him. Once he was in the right position, turning the tables would be a simple matter. But he couldn't just roll over, he had to put on a show and take his time playing into Amon's hands… he had to be very careful.

Upon their arrival at Equalist Island—or 'ex-Air Bender Island,' as Tarrlok liked to think of it—he was brought directly into the main hall. Tarrlok wasted no time in looking around and identifying the key members of the movement. The lieutenant supervised a group of younger equalist chi-blockers, Sato was seated to one side—clearly in the doghouse for his attempted-assault on the Avatar, and Amon was chatting with a group of young men and women in equalist uniforms that Tarrlok had never seen before. They were wearing clean, crisp charcoal and burgundy military uniforms.

 _They were probably the new commanders of the Equalist foot soldiers…_

The room was full of impassioned expressions of worship and pleasure. Everyone was talking with cheerful animation. Even the lieutenant and Sato were sporting smiles and chatting amicably with those around them. They seemed quite pleased with how things were going, even if they weren't in Amon's good graces at the moment. Apparently they were looking forward to the coming conflict.

Tarrlok snorted. He didn't see what they had to look forward to. These people were outmatched, outnumbered, and outgunned. They didn't stand a chance.

As soon as he entered the room, Amon turned and looked at him. Tarrlok made sure to fix his brother a quiet, steady, accusing glare as he made his way to his assigned seat. He wanted Amon to know that if he expected Tarrlok to participate in the blind worship, he had another thing coming… for now. He needed his brother to believe that he was still against him.

 _For now…_

Amon's eyes narrowed behind his mask, but Amon didn't seem troubled in the slightest by the cold look on Tarrlok's face. But then when had any form of violence or cruelty troubled the Equalist Leader these past twenty-four years? Yakone had done a good job of working on his eldest; the boy had become a man with a heart of stone…

 _Mostly stone. There was still some hope for him. After all, Tarrlok cold still get under his skin._

As he passed close to the Equalist Leader he gave an ugly, unkind smirk to go with his baleful glare. "A rousing speech, _Amon_." He wasn't about to be ignored and he wasn't about to let the Equalist leader forget that he knew the truth about his past.

The comment didn't get a rise out of the equalist leader, but it got a rise out of the entourage. An equalist soldier turned on the councilman quickly, their electric gloves sparking.

"Hold." With a single word, Amon reigned in his soldier. "That's no longer necessary. He may speak if he wishes." Amon stepped up to him, staring Tarrlok straight in the eye. "I will take that as a compliment, councilman." He kept their gaze locked for a moment longer than strictly necessary, before turning away. "Make sure the councilman is comfortable."

One the equalists took Tarrlok by the shoulder and walked him over to a comfortable chair beside what could only be Tenzin's desk. He was certain that the air bender would be hugely displeased to see a red, Equalist banner covered the ornate, artisanal carvings of air benders and flying bison. Would that be the fate of all symbols of the time before the Equalist Revolution? Would it all be covered up or destroyed? Swept aside for a new, revisionist history of the world?

Amon made his way to stand before a window that looked out over Republic City. His lieutenant made his way to a small, central table where a pretty little radio sat, its wooden surfaces shone with polished care and its little brass fixes glinted happily. "And now a word from our opposition." The Lieutenant's deep, husky voice immediately captured the attention of the room, even though he hadn't said the words loudly. "Let's see what the Four Nations have to say about our little rally, shall we?"

Tarrlok's eyes widened in shock and his breath caught in his throat. Had the rally been broadcast so that the enemies could hear it? Had that show been more than just a rally? Had Amon been intimidating—no, _challenging_ his enemies to come after the movement? That was insane, that was…

His eyes slipped closed and he sighed as a recollection of Noatak deliberately challenging small group of toughs from a neighboring village popped into his head. Noatak had seen them picking on a boy who'd lived next door, he'd immediately marched right up to the gang and insulted them. He'd nearly gotten his pretty face smashed in for it, but the kid had gone and called the adults and that was the end of that…

In a strange way… _this was all so Noatak…._

The Lieutenant adjusted the radio to turn into the regular frequencies. Tarrlok was on the edge of his seat. What would the four nations have to say in response to Amon's challenge? What if they gave something away? He was worried. He needed to hear this.

The radio blared a heroic anthem and the Lieutenant adjusted the sound so that the tune filled the room. The assembled Equalists leadership stilled and turned their attention to the radio. Some went to take a seat, others went to lean against the wall, and a few remained where they stood, but everyone was paying close attention. They were all looking forward to this moment.

The announcer began to speak; his tinny, nasal voice filled the room. [ _In three days the United Forces and the Four Nations will march on Republic City to reclaim it from the grip of the Equalist League of Terrorists. I am joined today by the leaders of the Four Nations Earth Queen Hou-Ting, Fire Lady Izumi, Councilman Tenzin, and Chief Unalaq to get their thoughts on the situation._ ]

The announcer didn't have time to introduce the first speaker. She barged right in, her voice was low and harsh, and grating. [ _This Equalist Uprising is a **direct** result of the previous Avatar's error._ ] The woman declared loudly.

That. _Was not_ Fire Lady Izumi.

The announcer chuckled nervously. [ _I see that Earth Queen Hou-Ting will be leading this discussion._ ]

Before the announcer had a chance to make a spirited quip, the Earth Queen was talking again. [ _Of course_ ,] she said imperiously. [ _This would have **never** happened if Avatar Aang hadn't **recklessly** divided the Earth Kingdom. I am most relieved to hear that the new Avatar is of a different temperament and mindset than her predecessor. I am certain that upon her recovery and liberation she will be convinced to restore this fallen land to its rightful ruler._ ] Hou-Ting paused before continuing; [ _Though I am concerned that her guardians have done a poor job with her education, upbringing, and protection, I am certain that all of that can be rectified once this ridiculous mess has been sorted out properly._ ]

Tarrlok bit back a groan. He'd heard she was unbearable, but he hadn't imagined that she was this bad. He'd always wanted to meet the Earth Queen, she was the one ruler he hadn't had an opportunity to speak with. He was now relieved that he'd never gotten the chance. He was glad that she'd remained cooped up in her palace.

[ _As it stands,_ ] the Earth Queen continued, [ _I am certain that my Dai Li will be able to handle this little insurrection easily and I will be more than happy to lend them to our new, young Avatar for her protection._ ]

Tarrlok's eyes narrowed. So… the Earth Queen didn't just want to take the United Republic, she also wanted the Avatar. That would be a problem. She'd probably already deployed a team of Dai Li agents to try and infiltrate the Equalist bases. It would not take them long to locate the Avatar and recover her for Hou-Ting. She'd probably be smuggled off the Ba Sing Sei and kept under lock and key… or maybe the rumors about the resurrection of Lake Laogai were true?

 _Maybe he could use that as an incentive to position himself close to the Avatar for the time being?_

It probably wouldn't work. However, the broadcast was still running and Tarrlok needed to keep listening.

[ _What about the rumors that the Avatar has lost her bending?_ ] the announcer asked.

The Earth Queen laughed. [ _Pure nonsense. She is clearly inexperienced and has merely been misled by her captors. With time and proper guidance, she will be put back on the proper path. She will restore order to the world and usher in a new age of peace._ ]

The lieutenant shook his head. "Listen to her. She talks about order and peace, but she doesn't care at all about equality. She wants us all to live in fear under her tyrannical rule. Who could live in peace with a woman like that in charge? A woman who uses bending to enforce her vile, oppressive laws?" The mustached man let out a grunt of disapproval. "She'll learn once we create the new world order. They'll all learn."

Tarrlok glanced at the tall, lean man. He didn't know much about Amon's most loyal and dedicated soldier, but the lieutenant clearly had a chip on his shoulder. He wondered if this man, like Sato, sought to destroy all benders over the crimes of a petty few. Or, were his reasons for joining the revolution misguided yet noble? Was he a hypocrite or a tragedy?

There was no time to wonder, the announcer was already introducing the next leader—

[ _Fire Lady Izumi. What are your thoughts?_ ]

Tarrlok was looking forward to hearing Lady Izumi's comments. She was a strong, confident woman with a no-nonsense attitude who was always straight to the point. He liked that about her, even if he disapproved of her pacifist outlook.

The Fire Lady's voice was clear and sharp over the radio, but whereas Hou-Ting's voice grated on the nerves, Izumi's had a particularly pleasing tone. [ _While I am all in favor of supporting the liberation of Republic City from Equalist control, I am afraid that I disagree with Hou-Ting on a few points. I believe that the Equalist Movement was born less of distance from the Earth Kingdom and more from its similarities. In the wake of this event, it is my hope that the United Republic will be permitted to remain its own self-governing entity and will further distance itself from the tiered society of the Earth Kingdom_.]

Tarrlok bit back a smirk at her words. She was so blunt and brutal in her comments, but still came off as graceful.

The Fire Lady continued her line of thought. [ _It is my dearest hope that the young Avatar may be returned to her White Lotus Guardians and finish her training. After all, the recovery of the Avatar is imperative. There are few alive who are old enough to recall the great calamity that occurred when the previous Avatar was lost to the world. We cannot afford a repeat of those terrible events._

[ _As for the Avatar's bending, I am not sure what to believe. I have heard many different and terrifying accounts, but I have not seen any conclusive evidence that such a feat is possible. However, I am absolutely certain that the madman who is leading this Equalist Movement has taken this too far and must be stopped. He is now endangering the lives and livelihoods of benders and non-benders alike. I do not believe that he seeks equality, but instead aims to create a new totalitarian regime._ ]

Tarrlok almost felt proud. Izumi was sharper than Hou-Ting, and far more thoughtful in her approach to this situation. She knew exactly what Amon was and she was clearly taking a careful look at the situation developing in the United Republic. The real question, however, was if she'd act. She knew her nation's history quite well and was conscious of the fear that the Fire Nation had inspired around the world and thus far she'd avoided entering into any major conflicts…

 _Would she retreat from the equalist threat as well?_

Izumi drew a breath before continuing. [ _I fear that this man is much like my great-grandfather and all his claims should not be too easily believed, for though his intentions are noble, the methods he uses to achieve his ends are dangerous and violent. I believe that he will stop at nothing to achieve his ends. We must save the young Avatar and help her to restore balance to the city and to the world._ ]

Sato scoffed at Lady Izumi's words. "So she compares you to Azulan? She's more like Ozai! After all, _she_ is an oppressive, tyrannical bender!" The industrialist was clearly quite pleased with the comparison.

Tarrlok said nothing, but thought of all the bribes he'd received from Sato that allowed the wealthy industrialist to dodge inspections. Hadn't he also helped Sato quash several worker uprisings? Uprisings that had made Tarrlok feel rather uncertain about the man… even though he'd never said anything to cross him. Wasn't this the same Hiroshi Sato who underpaid his workers so he could pocket the bulk of the profit? The same man who let his workers and their families starve? How many riots had taken place at Future Industries factories that had been conveniently swept under the rug?

 _And he called Izumi oppressive and tyrannical…_

[ _An impressive speech, Lady Izumi. She's one fiery ruler!_ ] The announcer sounded pleased to have finally got a quip in. [ _Councilman Tenzin, what do **you** say?_ ]

Tenzin's voice was, as always, calm, controlled, and powerfully authoritative, but excessively sincere. [ _I am afraid that my fellow leaders do not fully grasp the severity of the situation. The Avatar herself has seen Amon remove people's bending and countless benders have been taken hostage and lost their ability to bend entirely. While no one knows how Amon has achieved this ability, I would like to reiterate that he is extremely dangerous._

[ _While I can sympathize with the ideals and desires of the Equalists, I certainly agree that this has gone too far. There needs to be compromise or else this situation may escalate and millions could die. We cannot allow this situation to devolve into another Hundred Years War. Furthermore, I would like to emphasize that the recovery of the Avatar is of utmost importance not just for the sake of her safety and protection, but for the sake of the world_.]

Tenzin's tone changed as he addressed his audience. [ _Amon, if you're listening—and I believe you are—I beg you to resolve this conflict peacefully. I am certain that you would abhor the great loss of life that will certainly occur if this situation escalates any further. I am certain that my comrades do not wish to see their people suffer and die on a battlefield as much as you would not wish to see your Equalists lose their lives. A war would mean the death of thousands of people. At this point, only you can bring a stop to this madness. Please release the Avatar back into the care of her protectors and I will help you negotiate a peaceful resolution to this conflict._ ]

Tarrlok's eyes slipped closed. Tenzin's words were like a blow to him. This was the first and only leader who had a personal stake in the upcoming struggle. Republic City was Tenzin's home. It must be torture to think of losing it.

 _Spirits._ They were sitting in Tenzin's house right now. Amon was using the old air bender's desk. Suddenly, Tarrlok couldn't shake the feeling of violation and intrusion. There was something absolutely wrong with what was happening here. This situation was entirely out of control.

He looked at Amon and wondered if the Equalist Leader felt it too? He doubted it. Even as Noatak, Amon hadn't had much human feeling. This entire revolution was a sham. It was just a mad power-grab by a ruthless, evil man.

[ _Do you really think this can end peacefully, Tenzin?_ ] the announcer asked.

[ _Yes._ ] Tenzin's voice was filled with compassion and hope. [ _I have faith that Amon and his followers will see reason before this escalates into total warfare._ ]

Tarrlok winced and turned away from the radio. This was so awful and Tenzin's desperate hope just made everything worse. Suddenly he couldn't stand it anymore. "This is never going to work, Amon. Not like this." The words slipped out almost unconsciously.

Sato twisted to glare balefully at Tarrlok and snarled. "Silence!" He turned to Amon. "Amon, I respect your judgment, but why is he here?"

Amon did not turn or flinch. The Equalist leader only said, "He's here to bear witness to the beginning of a new and better world."

The announcer's voice pulled them back to the radio. [ _Any comments Chief Unalaq?_ ]

Tarrlok crossed his arms and leaned back, his eyes slid closed and he frowned in concentration. Time to find out how much pull Korra's Northern relative had. Their top picks from the files all had different methods, but at least two of them would demand that Unalaq loudly and viciously denounce the crimes of their attack against Korra. The other three had more tact. They would demand that Unalaq recognize the importance of the Avatar and command her release…

He'd know which Water Tribe leader it was when Unalaq made gave his comments. The more Unalaq emphasized the importance of the young Avatar, the more important and significant the relative. Of course with Unalaq, emphasis meant that the Northern Chief would simply say that Korra was very important in a very dry, calm, spiritual leader-sounding voice. The number of times he said it and the words he used to describe the Avatar's importance would provide the vital clues. Tarrlok would have to pay close attention.

[ _While my fellow leaders have certainly made many valid points, I am inclined to disagree with their assessment of the situation. I have come to the decision that drastic action must be taken against this terrorist uprising and I have no intention of waiting for Amon to take an olive branch that any of my peers might offer_.]

Tarrlok stared at the radio in shock. To any casual listener, Unalaq sounded tense and resolved, but Tarrlok had learned to recognize the Water Chief's tells during his time in the Northern Capital City worming his way to the top. It was a quirk of the Water Tribe Chief; even when he was upset, Unalaq's voice remained dry and soft. Tarrlok had never heard the Northern Chief raise his voice. Unalaq had never been a loud man, but was unobtrusive and consumed by a peculiar fascination with the spirit world. His only tell was the intensity and tension in the way he spoke. The more tension, the angrier he was.

 _Right now Unalaq was not speaking softly. And he sounded positively pissed-off._

If he were perfectly honest with himself, Tarrlok would admit that he had always been slightly unnerved by the man, but he'd wooed him successfully. It seemed that even Unalaq could be bought off. For all his spirituality, the Chief of the Water Tribe knew the value of coin, support, and influence. He'd even given Tarrlok a few pointers on how to bribe people and had been something of a mentor for a brief time.

This did not sound 'bought off'… But it was often difficult to tell. Unalaq was a stoic man, after all; very quiet and always composed. Maybe it had just been a very long time and Tarrlok was rusty? Or Unalaq had been told to speak up on account of the radio?

[ _Really?_ ] the announcer asked politely, if uncertainly, [ _And why is that?_ ]

[ _Well, as I understand the situation, each of the four nations assembled here has a motive and a deep desire to end this conflict as peaceably as possible. The Earth Queen would like the United Republic restored to Earth Kingdom rule. In light of this, I imagine that she would like to recover Republic City as whole and undamaged as possible—after all, it would be jewel of her Empire._

[ _Lady Izumi would like to avoid a repeat of the terrible Hundred Years War. For her this is a matter of reputation. She wants to show that she is not like her great grandfather or her grandfather. She does not seek a destructive and violent path, but would prefer to end this as peaceably as possible._

[ _Councilman Tenzin lives in Republic City. He was married there. His children—the first of a new nation of air benders were born there. The United Republic has been his home for decades and its destruction would weigh heavily on his conscious_.]

And there it was, the devastating and, at times, brutal intellect possessed by the Water Chief. Tarrlok admired the man. Unalaq was so calm, so cool, so in-control of everyone and everything around him. He was an amazing leader and manipulator. He knew the motives of his fellow leaders so well already.

Tarrlok could practically see Tenzin nodding as he agreed with Unalaq's assessments. [ _That is true_ ,] the air bender said thoughtfully.

Unalaq continued his speech. [ _I, however, am also concerned by the points that each one has brought up. The Earth Queen has mentioned that the Avatar's guardians failed to adequately protect her. I am inclined to agree with that statement considering the current situation. The Fire Lady has mentioned that the leader of the Equalist Movement is a powerful, war-mongering madman, not unlike Fire Lord Ozai. Based on what we have seen him do—based on what we **know** the young Avatar has been subjected to—I am inclined to agree with that as well_.]

Tarrlok's eyes snapped open and he stared at the radio in shock. He wasn't alone. There was a sudden tension in the room. Everyone's gaze was fixed on the small, wooden and metal contraption.

Even the leaders appeared shocked at his words. Tenzin gave their mood away almost immediately. [ _Unalaq! That information is classified!_ ]

[ _Is it? Plenty of people around the found the Equalist Radio Frequency the night it happened. They heard everything! And even if it is classified, **should** it be?_ ] Unalaq challenged. [ _Shouldn't we address the incident? Shouldn't the world know what the young Avatar has been subjected to while held by Equalists? Shouldn't they understand the depth of contempt the Equalists have for tradition, order, and balance? I think the world should know what kind of disrespectful monsters these men and women **really** are_.]

Tarrlok stared at the radio. What in the world had gotten into Unalaq? He sounded absolutely furious. There was no reason for him to sound this… angry about the situation. How much money had Korra's relative given him to make him put on such a show?

But a small, frightened voice whimpered a terrifying question in the back of Tarrlok's head— _What if it's not about money?_

He dismissed the thought. _That was impossible._

[ _And then there is what you have told us all, Tenzin. The Avatar herself saw this **Amon**_ ,] if contempt could kill Amon would be dead, radio or no, [ _strip the bending from a group of powerful benders. We must assume, therefore, that Amon has this ability and that his claims are true—that he has stripped Korra of her bending and, in doing so, **stripped her of her title as the Avatar**_.]

[ ** _What?_** ]

Tenzin's outburst was echoed in the room. The Equalists were all muttering in shock at Unalaq's words. Benders had ever agreed with their opinions or ideologies.

Tarrlok's eyes narrowed in confusion and he frowned in concern and confusion. "What is he playing at?"

[ _What do you mean, Chief?_ ] the announcer asked.

Unalaq explained himself. [ _As I understand it, Korra is no longer the Avatar. Amon has usurped her title and made himself into a Dark Avatar—a being who will bring nothing but Darkness and Chaos into the world._ ]

 _What?_

Tarrlok leaned forward in his chair. His mouth hung open in shock. _Were these words really coming from Unalaq?_ Mr. Spiritual? This was baffling. _This was unthinkable_. Even if Amon had denounced Korra, there was no way that she _wasn't_ still the Avatar. To even dare think such a thing felt utterly forbidden.

He wasn't the only one gaping. The room had fallen silent. Not one Equalist in the room was moving. And once Tarrlok started to pay attention to the others in the room, he would have sworn that he couldn't hear any of them breathing. With a simple statement, Unalaq had captured their complete and undivided attention.

 _Spirits!_ He probably had the attention of every single person in the entire world who'd tuned into this broadcast.

[ _Could you explain your stance a little more clearly, Chief Unalaq?_ ] The announcer sounded cautious, almost afraid.

Tarrlok couldn't blame him, this sounded like madness.

Unalaq clarified his previous statement. [ _If Avatar Korra's ability to bend has been taken away, if it is indeed gone forever, then she is no longer the Avatar. She is no more powerful than any other ordinary, non-bender girl_.]

If the room had been quiet before, it was now deathly still. After a long, drawn, moment the Lieutenant broke the silence with a single word. "Surprising."

Tarrlok glanced at the Lieutenant. He could see the look of confusion that was barely hidden behind those thick green goggles.

 _Surprising?_

This was _surprising?_

 _That had to be the understatement of the century._

The beat of silence on the radio passed and Unalaq began to speak again. [ _Not only does this reveal the depth of the so-called Equalist Revolution's hypocrisy—their treatment of a **lone** , **defenseless** , **young** non-bending woman has been nothing short of **contemptible** —it shows the depths of their derision for the bending population. Even ex-benders will not be spared **violent** abuse_.]

Tarrlok felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him. He'd never heard Unalaq speak like this for _anything_. The Water Tribe Chief was usually so subtle and quiet; he never had outbursts like this! And those were fighting words! All of the other leaders were cool and logical and presented valid thoughts, but Unalaq… Unalaq meant business and what he said was enough to light a fire under the ass every bender in the world.

No one wanted to see a regime come to power that would treat people like dirt over a trait that had been forcibly stripped of them. That got people angry. _Really_ angry. And it wouldn't just be the benders, suddenly the non-benders and the ex-benders would be thinking about what had been done to the Avatar—wondering about her state and what was happening to her. And Unalaq had just made sure that they would think the worst.

He _clearly_ had an agenda and that agenda was _clearly_ to start a war. But who was paying him to start it? _That_ was the question of the hour.

 _If he was being paid…_

Unalaq ploughed on. [ _I cannot emphasize enough that Amon and his followers are essentially forcibly holding a young water tribe girl against her will_.]

Tarrlok blinked at the Chief's words. That was another jab. But that was lower, meaner… that was almost personal. That was taking this speech down a dangerous and terrifying path. He was making this about honor.

 _… blood… and honor…_

Tarrlok felt his blood drain from his face. The note had made statements about blood and honor. Now Unalaq was saying things that reflected those sentiments.

Tarrlok hoped that Unalaq had been paid a lot of money. He hoped that this speech was on behalf of one vengeful relative or another, because if it wasn't…

He glanced at Amon and noticed that the Equalist leader looked rather stiff as he stood, staring out the window. Unalaq's words were striking a chord. Amon was probably trying to sense a motive as much as Tarrlok, the councilman wondered if the Equalist Leader was having any more luck.

Unalaq continued. [ _Now, you must understand that within my tribe such actions against a young woman are considered deplorable. I shouldn't even have to begin describing how inappropriate this situation is, particularly for a **young, vulnerable, water tribe girl** …_]

Tarrlok winced and frowned. Unalaq was pulling out all the stops. Maybe the chief owed a personal favor? So on top of gold he was being let of a hook? That might be it…?

 _But who could it b-?_

[ _But to add insult to injury, **Korra** is **my niece**_.]

…

… oh…

Oh.

Oh. _No._

Tarrlok felt the air leave his lungs as all his focus, his entire world, narrowed down to the radio. It loomed in his vision, huge and all-powerful. Suddenly he could hear nothing but the sound of Unalaq's voice and a strange ringing in his ears.

[ _In other words,_ ] Unalaq's voice echoed strangely in the room, [ _this man is holding a **young Water Tribe noblewoman** against her will. We have no idea what treatment she is receiving, but if she has been **violated** or experienced **unusual harm** it is a matter of **family** and **tribal honor**_.]

Slowly, Tarrlok turned to look at Amon—he felt like his body was moving through thick syrup. How as he reacting to this? He watched as Amon slowly turned to stare at the radio. Tarrlok's gaze slid back to the great and all-powerful box with Unalaq's voice.

Suddenly Tarrlok could hear the threat in that tinny radio version of Unalaq's voice. He could hear the quiet, razor-sharp rage as Unalaq said: [ _Unfortunately, no one has seen or heard from Korra to ascertain her wellbeing and safety. What we have observed, however, is how these **so-called Equalilsts** treat her. I fear I must assume the worst. After all, her **public humiliation** was a **stark** revelation about **the kind of men and women** that make up the Equalist movement_.]

Slowly, Tarrlok turned his head to look directly at Amon once more. The Equalist stood, unmoving and quiet. His gaze fixed on the radio.

The radio continued to blare Unalaq's voice into the room. [ _A violation of filial honor cannot, **will not** , be tolerated and so I hereby declare a **Blood War** on Amon, his family, and every Equalist, **bender or non-bender** , who serves under him_.]

Tarrlok felt his breath leave him for a second time. His eyes widened further and for a brief moment, he felt that he wouldn't be surprised if his eyes popped out of his skull then and there. His stomach felt like it wasn't even there anymore. His limbs felt numb…

 _Spirits, he couldn't breathe!_

The room was deafeningly silent.

The announcer broke in at that point to ask a few questions and ended the spell Unalaq's voice had held over the room. Amon calmly walked up to the radio and carefully switched it off.

"Would everyone assembled here who is not Sato, the Lieutenant, or Tarrlok please go to the main hall. I must have a word with our distinguished leaders. I would also ask that no one speak of this broadcast for the time being."

Tarrlok gasped and his lungs filled with air. He nearly toppled out of his seat from the force of what he was feeling.

Oh.

Oh no.

This was _unthinkable_.

This was a _disaster._

No one had mentioned that Avatar Korra was related to _Water Tribe Royalty_. No one had said _anything at all_ about her family. Ever. She could have been _anyone_ … but _Unalaq's_ niece! It changed _everything!_ This entire situation was the _worst possible_ -! It was _inconceivable_ -!

 _He'd tried to sleep with her!_

But she was _the Avatar_ and it wasn't like Unalaq was going to make any assumptions… oh, no wait. _He had already made assumptions! He'd made **all** the assumptions!_

 _"Spirits."_ Tarrlok gasped out the word. He was certain that the blood had already completely drained out of his head. His face felt numb. Actually, every part of him felt numb with abject terror; except for his stomach, which seemed to have twisted itself into such tight, small knots that he doubted he would ever be able to eat again.

He looked at Amon helplessly. _"What do we do?"_ His voice cracked in distress.

The Equalist leader stood like a stone statue, staring at the radio quietly. He showed no sign of fear or remorse. For all anyone knew, Amon was just thinking about the broadcast

Sato laughed suddenly, breaking the silence. "A blood war? What kind of _backwater_ nonsense is that?" But there was something forced in his chortling. He sounded nervous. Perhaps he'd picked up on the grim tension that had settled upon the room.

The lieutenant was not so flippant. "That's a good question. What is a blood war? Do you know, Amon?"

Amon spoke. His voice was as calm, level, and commanding as always. "In the Water Tribe, a man's worth is only so great as his honor. In the past, a slight to a man's honor was considered a killing offense. But over time a ranked system evolved so that different slights called for different levels of retribution. At the lowest level, a slight or offense might require nothing more than an apology or gift to repair the situation—being rude to someone, for example. In more extreme cases, such as a direct insult, the offended party might challenge their opponent to a dual to the death." He paused then and Tarrlok thought he could see Amon blinking rapidly behind his mask.

 _Was Noatak in shock?_

The lieutenant nodded, quickly grasping the concepts. "The greater the offense the higher the price of reparations…"

Sato just stared at him, looking lost. "Amon?"

Amon seemed to straighten up, as though he was pulling himself together, but his voice maintained that same, serene calm that it'd had earlier. "A man's honor, however, is also tied to his family. His ability to protect, provide, and care for his family is central to his worth, especially since it was, and still is, often a struggle to do so in the arctic. As such, the surest way to slight a water tribe man, is to slight his family. To defile his mother, sleep with his wife, kill his brother, harm his son, or take his daughter… these are _killing offenses_. There is no formality necessary, it is expected that the slighted party should go and hunt down the offender and murder him in the most brutal way imaginable." Tarrlok couldn't breathe. Noatak was explaining the situation almost exactly as Yakone had explained it to them, so long ago. Their father had finished this speech with a rant about how the Avatar had sullied his honor… he doubted that Amon would do the same.

Sato broke in, confused. "But the Avatar is Unalaq's niece, not his daughter."

Amon looked at Tarrlok. "If you would…?" Suddenly the Equalist Leader sounded very tired. The situation was catching up to him at last.

Tarrlok pointed to himself. "I… me?" Amon wanted him to explain this? "I should?"

Amon nodded.

Tarrlok swallowed, cleared his throat, and stood. "Why is Unalaq coming after us if the Avatar isn't his direct responsibility… right." He shifted and twitched. "Things become more complicated within the royal family. You see, before the royal family existed as it does today, the Water Tribe was ruled by a loose federation of tribes and clans. In order to ensure the loyalty of clan members, most chiefs claimed that any slight against the clan was a slight against him and any slight against the chief or his family, was a slight against the clan." He wasn't explaining this well. "In… In situations where, say, a daughter of the chief, or his brother, or his sister might be taken by another clan or, worse, by barbarians, the chief would declare a Blood War… it's the next level up from a blood feud… That is, the intent to wipe out every single male member of the offending group, killing off the patrilineal bloodlines." Tarrlok choked a little at that point. He swallowed sharply and continued, _"To declare a Blood War is to declare the intent to commit genocide."_

Tarrlok's gaze darted to look at Amon, who had turned to calmly fixate on a bookshelf against the wall. Somehow, he doubted that the Equalist Leader was looking at book titles, but _damn it all! Why wasn't he doing anything?_

Sato was the one who broke the shocked silence. "He… _he can't do that!_ " Sato suddenly lurched forward, nearly stumbling over himself, his eyes were wide and there was a thin sheen of sweat on his face as he began to panic. _"We're not a tribe, we're not barbarians! He can't do that!"_

The lieutenant stepped forward as well, but he was far more in control of his body. "She is his niece! Not his daughter! If what you're saying is true, then he shouldn't have the right to do this!"

Tarrlok ran his hands down his face. He could feel his breath on his hands, the puffs of air came quickly and it felt like he couldn't draw any oxygen into his lungs. "Yes he can and yes he does. She is blood to him, she is of his family line, and her parents are perfectly within their right to turn to their other male relatives and demand that they aid them in avenging their family's honor. Particularly if the family is not present or able to make that claim." Tarrlok's eyes were moving frantically. He couldn't quite seem to focus on anything. Was he going to faint? He was going to faint. That would be very embarrassing, but he felt like he needed to faint.

He forced himself to draw a deep breath. It helped a little. He continued speaking. "As for Unalaq and the leaders of the Four Nations, he can do what he likes. None of you even _knew_ what a _Blood War_ was, do you think the other leaders are going to understand what's going on?" His voice was slowly but steadily rising in pitch and volume. "He's already got his ships lined up outside the Republic City harbor. By the time the other nations figure it out, it'll be too late!" He forced himself to draw another deep breath.

He needed to calm down.

The second breath helped him recover some of his senses. He was able to speak with some measure of composure again. "When it's done the other nations might raise a stink, but it's an old custom and it's still a legitimate decision. Countless water tribesmen will stand behind it! They will happily kill every single man of the Equalist Movement and possibly every non-bender in the city."

Tarrlok turned to look at Amon. Amon always had a plan. He had to fix this. "Amon. He is going to bring an army of water benders into the city. He is going to wipe Republic City off the map—submerge it under water and ice! There will be no quarter given!"

Amon did not respond. The Equalist leader merely stood facing the bookcase. The only indication that he hadn't simply passed out standing up was that he'd turned his gaze to the floor. He was breathing slowly and deeply.

Sato seemed to have finally caught onto exactly how bad things actually were. "He can't do this!" The man gasped, he was caught between rage and abject terror. "He didn't warn us!"

Tarrlok laughed at that. He couldn't help it. It was all Sato's fault after all. Poor Sato needed to be informed of the full extent of his screw up. "He did warn us, Sato." Tarrlok spat the words at the industrialist, suddenly enraged. "You destroyed it, Sato. We could have made arrangements, we could have prevented this, but _you burned the fucking telegram!_ "

The industrialist's mouth worked soundlessly, opening and closing like a gasping, suffocating fish out of water.

There.

Now he understood what he'd done. Now he knew his role in what was happening. He was the one who had, unintentionally, ensured their inevitable deaths.

The lieutenant spoke up suddenly, interrupting Sato and Tarrlok's downward spiral into fear and despair. "He'll want the Avatar alive!" He was clearly trying to be strong, in-control, and rational. "We can negotiate her release! We can get out of this!"

A sound escaped Tarrlok. On an intellectual level, he knew that he was laughing, but it didn't sound like laughter. It was a harsh, ugly, sharp sound that came tumbling up from somewhere deep inside. He almost didn't recognize his own voice as he said, "Soiled goods are of no value to anyone."

Both Sato and the lieutenant recoiled from him in horror. Their faces were both masks of confusion and disgust.

 _And Tarrlok thought it was hilarious…_

His laughter died as suddenly as it began when, out of the corner of his eye, Tarrlok saw Amon's head suddenly lift. There was a straightening of the spine and Tarrlok could almost see the Equalist Leader's body start to come alive. The movements were small and controlled, but they were there.

 _Amon had an idea._

Tarrlok was distracted from Amon's renewed energy when the lieutenant leveled one of his electric batons at the ex-blood bender's nose. "What do you _mean_ by that councilman?" It was more of a demand than a question.

Tarrlok illuminated the situation for the infuriated Equalist. "His intimations imply that her recovery is not half as important as the death of the Equalists. He will probably only take her back alive because it's expected." For a moment, Tarrlok felt a brief stab of pity for the young Avatar. "Even if he does recover her, she will be forced to live as though she's already dead, because as far as everyone is concerned, her honor as a woman is gone forever."

The lieutenant blinked at him. There was disbelief in his eyes. "But she's the Avatar."

Tarrlok gave the Equalist a pointed glare. He thought that if he frowned any harder, he'd strain a muscle in his face. "Not anymore."

He heard the sound of movement. He glanced toward the sound to see Amon step over to Councilman Tenzin's desk. The Equalist Leader pulled open a drawer and pulled out a thick stack of files. He began to look through them, with meticulous care—as if he had all the time in the world.

Tarrlok felt a rage begin to bubble in his chest. _What did Amon think he was doing, casually looking through files like that!? He had to come up with a plan to save their sorry hides from the horrific death that Unalaq had clearly planned for them!_

But Tarrlok didn't have much time to meditate on Amon's behavior. Sato and the lieutenant demanded his attention once more.

This time, Sato was being the annoying one. "Of _course_ she's the Avatar! As long as there are benders in the world, they will fall in behind her. _She is the ultimate bender!_ "

Tarrlok let out a huff of exasperation. He gave a dismissive wave of his hand as he said, "You heard him. He no longer considers her the Avatar. That makes her a dishonored member of the family. She is worth more to him dead than alive."

"But if we hand her over-?!" Sato sounded like he was begging now.

It pushed Tarrlok over the edge. He leaned in and vented his frustration and fear. "Don't you get it!? It doesn't work that way! Once a man has stated his intent, he cannot back down! Unalaq and his army will come down here and level Republic City! They will hunt down every male non-bender in the United Republic and slaughter them! _And if Korra dies in the struggle, then it's no skin off his teeth, because she's as good as dead to them already!_ " He panted in relief as he finished his tirade. He knew that yelling was deeply unprofessional, but he didn't mind. He'd sounded far stronger than he felt in those few moments… and they were enough to provide some level of catharsis. Enough that his head cleared enough for him to remember Korra's associates; he breathed a heavy sigh and said, "We can't prove that nothing happened to her."

Tarrlok glanced back over at Amon. The Equalist Leader had stopped searching through the files. Apparently he'd found what he was looking for—a manila file marked Beijixing. He was perusing its contents intently.

 _What was he looking at?_

 _Why hadn't he said anything?_

The lieutenant had lowered his baton. He was staring at Tarrlok with an expression of solemn concern. "Is there no way to stop this?" he asked. "Can't we fight this?"

Sato started to get excited again. "Yes! Yes! We could fight them! We have submarines, mines, airships, planes! We could fight them!" There was an almost deranged look in the shorter man's wide, amber eyes… he was practically foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog.

Tarrlok's gaze swung to look at Amon again, who was still looking through the file like they weren't all about to die horribly at the hands of an enraged Water Tribe Chief. He looked calm, collected, and completely at ease and in-control of his surroundings.

 _They were going to die._

 _Unalaq was going to bring his army to the city and they were all going to die._

 _If they were lucky, they would die in the freezing depths when the sea came ashore to swallow the city._

 _If they weren't lucky, Unalaq would find them alive and have them tortured._

The usual practice was to have prisoners tortured for two to three times of the length of the woman's captivity.

 _If they started to expire, they'd be healed._

 _If they tried to starve themselves to escape the cycle of humiliation and agony, they would be force-fed just to keep them alive until the Chief decided that they should die._

 ** _And it would be agony._**

It would be the most humiliating, debasing, excruciating forms of torture that Unalaq could dream up.

 _They were going to die horrible, painful, humiliating deaths and afterwards their bodies would be put on display as a reminder of what happened to those who dared to cross the royal line of the Water Tribe…_

 _And Amon was reading a damn, fucking file like the entire Water Tribe Nation would not be bearing down on Republic City, intent on wiping it off the map in a few short days._

Something in Tarrlok snapped. The rage and terror that he'd been desperately trying to control burst forth. _"For fuck's sake, Amon! Don't just stand there, reviewing files! Do something! Say something!"_ Tarrlok was advancing on his brother. _"You always had a plan! You were always one step ahead! Why don't you show off that brilliance now, huh!? Pull a spiritdamned plan out of your fucking talented ass!"_

Suddenly the lieutenant was in front of him, brandishing his electric batons in warning. "Tarrlok!" he snarled, "not one more step."

Tarrlok did not back down, but his ability to think returned. "He got us into this and, by the spirits, if he doesn't get us out, I will kill him with my own hands, bending or no!"

"You will sit back down!" The lieutenant's baton pressed into Tarrlok's chest.

Tarrlok glanced at the lieutenant and then at the baton that held him back. He leveled his gaze at the tall, lean chi-blocker. "You don't know what they're going to _do_ to us, do you?" Tarrlok was at the end of his wits. This man was a fool! "What is the worst fate you've ever heard visited upon a person? What is the most _humiliating, painful, degrading_ death you can _imagine?_ _What Unalaq has in store for us will be worse._ "

Amon closed the file and stared at it quietly for a long moment. Then he calmly folded his hands behind his back—still holding the file—and addressed the room. "In my experience, there is a lot to be learned from stories." It was clearly the start of an Amon speech. "I recall hearing several old Water Tribe tales while I wandered the world after the loss of my family. I was once told that such stories often explained certain ancient Water Tribe traditions." He met Tarrlok's infuriated glare with a steady look of his own. "One particular story comes to mind."

Tarrlok stared at Amon for a moment. He took in the sight of his brother, looking tall and intimidating and in control. His shoulders sagged in relief. He closed his eyes, drew in a deep breath, and reigned in his anger as he sat back down. Amon had a plan. He would hold his tongue until his brother managed to disappoint him with a truly terrible idea.

He gave it fifteen minutes.

Sato, however, had finally realized exactly how bad things actually were. "We're going to die, and you're thinking about children's stories!?" The industrialist ranted. "Tell me which machines to bring in, Amon! Tell me what we need and I'll build it! We can fight them!"

Amon let out a beleaguered sigh. "We _can't_ fight them." The Equalist Leader drew himself, once again using his presence and powerful voice to dominate the room. "Our strategy and success has been reliant on the fact that the police aimed to take our people alive. The authorities of Republic City, even the armies of the Four Nations, will not aim to kill us or destroy us totally. They want Republic City whole and intact. They want us to stand on trial for our presumed crimes against them. Unalaq isn't looking for a trial and he doesn't care about Republic City. He only wants revenge. No quarter will be given. We'd be sending your machines into a tsunami of ice and water on a full moon night. If we fight, we are done."

Sato stared at him, agog. Apparently he'd believed that they could fight this if they only had the right machines, but there was a core flaw in his logic. A talented water bender could destroy all of Sato's metal toys quite easily as long as they didn't care about the human cost.

 _And Unalaq didn't care._

"Now. Let me finish. I'm about to tell you how we're going to get out of this situation, but it requires context." Amon began again. "There is a story in the Water Tribe… or rather, a story type that occurs with uncommon frequency."

"No!" Sato brought his foot down hard on the wood. "We _don't_ have time for stories!"

Amon did not flinch at Sato's outburst. "Sato. Sit down. This particular story is going to save our lives, because it outlines the only way out of this situation."

Tarrlok watched as Sato reluctantly took a seat. He stared up at Amon with wide, frightened eyes, but they glimmered with desperate hope. Out of the corner of his eye, Tarrlok noticed that the lieutenant was standing tall and strong, clearly waiting like a faithful dog for Amon to save them all.

Amon began again. "As I was saying, there is a particular narrative that is common in the Water Tribe that relates to marriage customs and, ironically enough the method to avoid provoking and even negating a Blood War."

Tarrlok's eyebrows went up and he noticed that the lieutenant's mouth had fallen open in surprise. He had no idea what Amon was going on about, but then he'd always had a poor memory for stories. Stories were Noatak's area of expertise—so Amon probably knew what he was talking about.

From his seat, Sato let out a baffled, "What?"

"If you would let me explain?" Once Amon was certain that everyone was waiting with baited breath to hear what he had to say, he continued. "Arranged marriages aren't just common in the North, they're expected. This has always been the case."

"Sir, if I may ask, what do arranged marriages have to do with our current situation and how can it possibly relate to convincing Unalaq to…" The lieutenant trailed off. There was a look of dawning comprehension on his face.

"There were only two reasons that a chief's daughter would be taken from her family unexpectedly or by force. Usually, during wars between tribes, a girl of the enemy chief's family might be taken as a hostage or as a way of inciting the fury of the enemy—a means of goading one's opponent into action." Amon sighed, set the file down on the large ornate desk behind him, folded his arms and leaned back against the sturdy piece of wood—making himself comfortable, even though he sounded increasingly uncomfortable. "At the moment, our current situation fits _that_ narrative. But abductions also occurred during peace times."

Tarrlok stared at Amon; even if he couldn't see the disgusted sneer on his brother's lips, he could hear the humiliation in his voice. Whatever this plan was, the Equalist Leader didn't like it. Tarrlok thought he had an idea of where this was going, but surely even Amon knew that marrying the Avatar wasn't going to solve anything—Unalaq would still drown every living person in Republic City over the slight against his family's honor. After all, the Equalists still served him and would be treated as a tribe. Even if Amon would be spared, his followers would be completely subjugated, which was only a small step up from the massacre that Unalaq planned for them.

The lieutenant stammered in shock. "Sir! What…? But…?"

Sato was on his feet again. "Amon! Please, we don't have time for this!" The industrialist pleaded with his commander.

Amon ignored them. "When the abductions were not related to a brewing war or conflict, retribution against the offender's 'tribe' was frowned upon. Even a declaration of Blood War would be withdrawn immediately."

Amon had Tarrlok's complete attention again. He had no idea what Amon was talking about. He'd never heard anything about this. Or he didn't _think_ he'd heard about this sort of thing before…

Sato was baffled by this revelation. "But… he said…?" The industrialist pointed at Tarrlok. "The honor…? He said Unalaq wouldn't back down!"

"As long as this situation fits that first narrative, he won't." Amon explained. "Now, as I was saying before. Arranged marriages are par course. Children are often born with their future spouses pre-selected by their families. There isn't room for love… but…" Amon paused and reached up to massage his eyes through the eyeholes of his mask. "But elopement has its place and function. Chief's sons have been known to run off with a rival chief's daughter." Amon's voice sounded strained and tired.

The lieutenant jerked back as though he'd been stuck, appalled at Amon's words. "What are you going to do?"

Tarrlok snorted. So that was it. He was planning on trying to spin this situation as an elopement. He'd really been expecting a brilliant, but flawed plan. Something significant, bold and astounding, but this… this was a joke. It had to be a joke. He chuckled at the thought. Amon. Eloping with the Avatar. "That's hilarious. You're joking. You have to be joking." Tarrlok looked at Amon, still chortling.

Amon didn't flinch or blink. He just stared at Tarrlok with unwavering calm. He was completely serious.

Tarrlok burst out laughing, but he felt like crying. "Oh, spirits, you're seriously considering-! I mean… I mean…? _Really?_ " He gasped out the words and he thought about how ridiculous Amon's plan really was—he was going to take the Avatar and run away with her. And Unalaq… what would he do when he found out? He'd go after Amon and the Avatar, because he had no choice if he wanted to avenge his honor. And he couldn't back down after declaring a Blood War! He had to go after Amon otherwise he wasn't a man and no one in the Water Tribe would take him seriously again. If Unalaq failed to recover the Avatar….

And then suddenly Tarrlok's brain kicked into gear.

If Unalaq failed to recover the Avatar… _the entire tribe would recognize the marriage and Unalaq would have to accept and even bless the union._ Instead of having just he Equalists backing him up, Amon would have the acknowledgement of the Avatar and the entire Water Tribe Nation. Not even the forced political marriage Amon had probably planned would get the Equalist Leader that level of support or respect from the other Nations.

It all fell into place so neatly. The old traditions and laws that Unalaq adored were very specific on this matter. It all went back to that old legend about the lovers who were kept apart by their warring tribes—it wasn't a story with a happy ending, but as a result of their actions the presiding chief created a series of special laws that protected those who were truly dedicated to each other. Or rather, it was meant to protect those who were determined to go against their families in the name of love. Tarrlok could think of plenty of men who'd abused the laws for the sake of lust and power.

But nevertheless, "It could work… _spirits_ it could _actually work_." Especially since it was always presumed that the couple acted on their own accord out of deep emotional attachment, so there could be no war or strife between the two families. Any grudge immediately transferred to the presumed 'couple'—usually the one that bore the brunt was the man since he was presumed to be the initiator… and usually took the girl out of her home… out a window… in the dead of night… Sure, fathers held grudges, but there was a time limit to how long the families could hold their grudge against the couple or act on it. And once that time limit was up, they had to welcome the newlyweds' home. "It's just stupidly implausible enough that it could _actually really_ work."

The lieutenant turned to Tarrlok and said, "You seem to know quite a bit about this, so perhaps you could explain how this inane idea could possibly work?"

Tarrlok was already on his feet, pacing. He wasn't so much explaining as he was thinking aloud—laying it all out. "A chief can declare a Blood War on a tribe, but not on a house and he can't hold a blood feud against his own bloodline or his own people. That's a different kind of grudge entirely. Very personal in nature. It might be the best way out of all of this. Sure," Tarrlok turned to address Amon, " _you'd_ have to take full responsibility for the situation. But doing so would force Unalaq to recant his declaration of a Blood War immediately. He wouldn't have the right to destroy Republic City or go after the Equalists or murder everyone. He'd have to drop everything and shift all his attention to you and you alone… _if_ he wants to make something of it. And not everyone would approve of that course of action. If you play this right it would actually make you out to be something of a…" Tarrlok snickered then, " _romantic_ hero figure."

The lieutenant stared at Tarrlok with a furrowed brow. "How could one simple _course of action_ do all of that?"

A soft, "Sir?" Interrupted the conversation.

Tarrlok glanced at the industrialist. The expression of shock and betrayal suggested that Sato had figured it out. Clearly the man was appalled at the idea of Amon marrying the Avatar. While Tarrlok couldn't blame him, he also recognized that at the moment, this was the best option.

Tarrlok sighed and provided a bit more context. "Let me put it like this. The only way for a young couple in love to escape an unwanted arranged marriage was to run off with each other and elope. Now, if they were from different tribes or clans, there might be a mistaken call for a Blood War… but you can't hold your enemy responsible for the actions of a young idiot in love, especially if your enemy is about to become your in-law." He thought for a moment, and realized he could recall countless references to 'official' or 'ritualized' elopements in Water Tribe history books. If he understood the references correctly... "It was a means of preventing wars between families and clans for quite some time." It made sense. "All Amon has to do is take the Avatar and run."

Amon's slouched, almost defeated body language told the entire room that the Equalist leader wasn't pleased with his new plan. " _'Take the Avatar and run,'_ if only it really were that simple." Amon heaved a long, heavy, put-upon sigh. "But, yes. That's the gist of it."

The lieutenant spoke up. "Sir. No one would ever believe that you eloped with the Avatar."

Amon huffed, he sounded almost amused. "Belief is irrelevant when there's enough evidence in place. We just need to manufacture enough 'evidence' to make them buy it."

The lieutenant was becoming increasingly distressed. "Sir, if you do this, the entire Revolution will feel betrayed! Morale will plummet! We won't be able to hold the city."

Amon slammed his fist down on the desk behind him and snarled. "If I don't do it, there won't be a city to hold!" The Equalist Leader shook his head in defeat. "There won't even be a revolution. I have given my life to ensuring the success of our movement. If I remain here, I will sabotage all hope of victory. Unalaq will undo years of work… hell, he'll even _unmake the city we fought for!_ Everything we've done will be for naught." Amon drew a steadying breath and straightened up again. He'd regained his resolve and defiance, but the sense of resignation lingered in the slope of his shoulders and in the tilt of his head. "I will not let the Revolution die like this."

Amon turned to the tall mustached man with the electric batons. "Lieutenant. You and Sato will have to finish what I started. My plans are outlined in the files. You can use them to finish this war and ensure the survival of the Revolution."

The lieutenant straightened up and nodded. "Sir." He stared at Amon, his eyes were filled with dedication and unwavering loyalty. "What can we do to help you?"

"Tarrlok?"

Tarrlok sighed and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He thought for a moment before speaking, "We have to act fast in order to minimize any and all damage and save your revolution. We have to compile enough evidence to make elopement look like a convincing possibility." He looked at Sato and the lieutenant. "All the blame must fall on him. He has to be the scapegoat."

Amon broke in at that point. "I'll need every single file I have on the Avatar. And I'll need to make changes to my personal files as well."

The lieutenant stepped forward suddenly. "I don't like you doing this alone."

Tarrlok raised his eyebrows. Was there another reason his brother was reluctant to go through with this? Or did the lieutenant have an unrequited crush?

"I won't be doing this alone. Tarrlok is coming with me."

Tarrlok felt an icy rush under the surface of his skin—it wasn't unlike the sensation of having a bucket of cold water dumped on his head. It started at his head and moved quickly down to his feet. "Wait. _What?!_ "

Tarrlok wasn't the only one shocked by this little revelation. Sato was staring at Amon as though he'd sprouted horns. "Amon?"

"He knows the most about this situation, I'll need his council."

The lieutenant immediately jumped in. "I'm sure there are other non-benders from the water tribes that could help you…" The man shot Tarrlok a dirty look.

Amon shook his head. "It has to be Tarrlok."

"Why?" Sato asked.

"Legitimacy."

Sato didn't back down. "He's a snake!"

"Yes," Amon stepped up to Tarrlok and grabbed him by the lapel of his jacket, pushing him back against the wall, "but given the right incentives, he will cooperate. Isn't that right, _councilman_?"

Tarrlok glared defiantly at Amon, but he knew his brother was right. He reluctantly closed his eyes and nodded.

Amon turned to the other two men and released Tarrlok. "Besides, there isn't time for me to check the credentials of every non-bender with water tribe in their background. We have less than twenty-four hours and I need to fabricate enough evidence of a romantic obsession with the Avatar for this to be convincing."

Tarrlok took a moment to try and fix his jacket and attire again. He'd almost managed to look presentable for most of the day. Now he was rumpled again.

The lieutenant stared at Amon quietly. "Then what?"

"I will take Tarrlok and the Avatar and we will leave immediately. You will report that I took my brother and the Avatar—who I was secretly enamored with—and fled." The Equalist leader sighed heavily and stared at a point on the wall between Sato and the lieutenant. "If things go well, I will be able to return to the capital in a few years."

"Your brother?" Sato sounded confused and horrified. His gaze slid between the two men quietly.

Tarrlok couldn't blame him. He'd been horrified when he'd realized the truth, why shouldn't Sato be horrified?

Amon shrugged off the industrialist's question. "We're pulling a Water Tribe elopement. In this situation, a member of the Water Tribe with a significant and well-known relative is far more _forgivable_ than a nobody from the Earth or Fire Nations. The closer I am to the Water Tribe, the easier this will be in the long run. Besides," Amon caught the lapel of Tarrlok's robe again and yanked him over, "Tarrlok will behave himself if he knows that they're after his head as well. The entire thing needs to be shocking, scandalous, and convincing." Amon gave Tarrlok another pointed look. "I need Tarrlok to play the role of the long-lost brother that I was _so happy_ to be reunited with if I'm going to take him along. It's the only way we'll both survive, after all."

Tarrlok glared at his brother. Amon glared right back.

"Why do you need to leave so soon?" the lieutenant asked.

"I don't think Unalaq will wait for the other nations. There is a full moon rising the night after tomorrow. Unalaq will probably move to strike when his warriors are at their peak and able to perform… unusual feats of bending."

Sato cut in, "You can't possibly believe-!"

Amon cut off the industrialist's tirade. "It's a matter of honor—the Water Tribe takes honor very seriously."

Sato sighed and the fight went out of him.

"And what sort of evidence do we need to create around the Avatar?" The lieutenant asked.

"I need it to seem like I'd never let anyone touch her, that I want her desperately, that she's…" A visible shudder ran through the Equalist leader. "That I am hopelessly, madly in love with her and that I want to make her mine more than anything else."

Tarrlok chuckled. "So, what? We need to pack the files with dime-store romantic filth?"

Amon didn't even look at him. "Yes."

Sato rubbed his chin thoughtfully for a moment. "I'm excellent with machines, but I don't have the stomach for such things…" He turned to Amon's right-hand man. "Lieutenant, I heard that you occasionally indulge in writing. And there's that little rumor that you occasionally dabble in sordid erotica." Sato smirked. "Why don't you take charge of the Avatar's file?"

The Lieutenant turned bright red and looked thoroughly embarrassed, but he nodded and took the Avatar's file. He began flipping through it immediately. There was a look of intense concentration on his face. "I'll need to consult with Amon, if we want to make this believable, I'll need to know the sort of language he'd…" The Lieutenant faltered then, wincing as an expression of extreme discomfort crossed his face. "The language he might use to describe a lover."

With the romance aspect of the plan delegated, the attention turned to Tarrlok. "How are we going to fabricate his story?" Sato asked.

Amon shook his head and turned away. "Tarrlok and I can build a convincing history together. I just need you to vet the files when we're finished. You're very thorough, Sato. You won't miss anything."

Tarrlok had a hunch that it would be a more than convincing story—Amon probably intended to plant the truth in those files. Once Unalaq confirmed the evidence, there was no way that Amon or Tarrlok could ever return to Republic City. The entire world would hold them in contempt.

Amon spoke again; his voice was steady and commanding. "Remember at the end of twenty-four hours, I need to be gone."

Sato stared at the Equalist Leader with concern. "Will you _really_ be alright on your own? With those two benders?"

Amon snorted. "Neither of them can bend at all anymore."

"But Tarrlok isn't a revolutionary." Sato glared at Tarrlok. "Why would he help you vet the file? He could sneak something in there that could sabotage everything. He's only in danger _if_ he goes along with this!"

Amon chuckled. "Ah, but that's not true. He's already in for it. Tarrlok blood bent and kidnapped Unalaq's niece. If it weren't for his actions, we wouldn't have been able to capture the Avatar." Tarrlok felt Amon's grip on his arm tighten and winced. "Everyone knows what he did. I would wager that the worst punishment of all will be reserved for Tarrlok and myself, since we will both be held primarily responsible for any and all harm that the Avatar has suffered."

Tarrlok flinched. He hadn't thought of that, but Amon was right. If he remained, he would be put on trial and he'd be Unalaq's practice round.

He had to go along with this plan.

The lieutenant stared down at him, his gaze dark and unpleasant. "So _that's_ why he's been so helpful."

Amon patted Tarrlok's shoulder as he said, "Yes. Tarrlok has no other recourse. He has to go along with this, because if he is caught here… well, he won't be facing a _life_ sentence…"

The dig about the torture and eventual death sentence he faced if he dared try to escape this mess made Tarrlok flinch.

"I'll be back with the files we'll be planting as evidence in an hour. Why don't you start brainstorming?" Amon strode out of the room.

Tarrlok sank to the floor stared at the door.

Spirits. What had he just gotten himself into?

[] [] [] END CHAPTER FIVE [] [] []

And one more thing: **_Amon the Chopping Block._**


	6. Blood and Honor

This is coming in late, because life (and awful, horrible writer's block) happens to the best of us and the world can be a cruel and unpleasant thing at times...

Part 2 is kicking off! Let's get the formalities out of the way~

 **Full Summary:** Korra and Tarrlok are captured and lose their bending. Amon and his Equalists take Republic City. At the moment of the Equalist Revolution's greatest triumph everything comes apart when a single, angry missive ends up in the wrong hands. Now Amon, Tarrlok, and Korra must flee across the Earth Kingdom in an insane bid to save the Revolution and Republic City from destruction at the hands of the enraged Chief of the Northern Water Tribe. The journey is long, there is no turning back and as the blood bending brothers battle for the fate of the Avatar, Korra awakens to her fullest spiritual potential.

 **The Disclaimers, Warnings, and Explanations:**  
1\. I would like to begin by saying that I own nothing, except maybe some original characters and concepts I've been mulling over that made their way in here. Everything else belongs to the entities known as Bryke (that is Bryan Konietzko and Michael Dante DiMartino) and Nickelodeon. Please support the official release...  
2\. This fic will make reference to/make mention of/involve a PILE of ships  
3\. This fic is not for the lighthearted. It's not brutal, bloody, or excessive, but it does deal with heavy topics. I've been putting trigger warnings in, but just head's up, okay?  
4\. This is not a non-con fic, so all sex-scenes will be consensual.  
5\. Will there be sex-scenes? Yes, but we're doing _the slowest burn_.  
6\. I have been writing this thing for a year already, so I can make no promises that I will not burn out. But I will do my damnedest to avoid it. Just be aware that updates might be infrequent at times… Life can suck.  
7\. I might be writing this because I am a massive troll… maybe…

 **Part 2:** Flight  
 **Act 1:** Changing Strategies  
 **Chapter 6:** Blood and Honor

 _ **AN:**_ _They say that the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb... but not everyone believes that's true..._

 ** _Trigger Warning: Misogyny, Crude Language, Shaming,_** _ **Descriptions of Depression**_

The ocean was rough that night. The wind whipped over the water as it pulled black storm clouds toward the shore. It wasn't a good time to be at sea, but nowadays trade ships rarely paid attention to storms. Not when it was possible to load a vessel down with capable water benders who could help ensure that the craft, its crew, and its cargo reached its destination safely no matter what the weather conditions. Nevertheless, it was not a comfortable passage.

Tonraq sighed tiredly as he lay awake in the dark on a small cot near his wife's small bed as he felt the ship heave and toss on the high waves. He was tired—he'd secured passage on the ship by offering his expertise as a water bender and had spent the day hard at work managing the waves. But, even though his body felt heavy with fatigue and he was sick from exhaustion, he couldn't quite bring himself to close his eyes and sleep. His mind was abuzz with fear for what awaited them at their destination.

But most of all he worried about Senna.

These conditions couldn't be good for her. He knew she hated his hovering, but he worried about her. After all, Korra had gotten her tendency to charge into dangerous situations from _both_ of her parents.

He turned to face the cot beside him. He couldn't see her, but he could hear her breathing.

She didn't sound like she was in pain…

 _But what if she was in pain? What if she just didn't want him to worry? What if something was wrong?!_

"Are you awake?" His heart leapt into his throat at the sound of her voice.

 _How did she always know when he was awake and worried about her?_

He cleared his throat. "Yes," he replied. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm alright."

He could just hear the edge of a smirk on her voice. She knew he was fretting about her well-being and she was teasing him. A small way of letting him know that she was alright.

Nevertheless, he checked again. "Are you sure?"

Senna chuckled. "Yes. The rocking is terrible, but I'm fine." She paused and then asked, "Who let these amateurs captain a ship, huh?" she barely kept the laughter out of her voice.

Tonraq snickered and reached out through the darkness. He found her small hand and their fingers tangled. He smiled sadly as he felt her soft skin against his own.

She'd been so strong… and now she was so fragile. Even after all this time, he feared that even the smallest accident could take her from him forever.

"We'll be in Republic City soon," he reassured her—well, it was more to reassure himself, but he said it aloud for her benefit.

"It'll be a few days, I know," Senna teased. "Did you send that message to my silly cousin?" she asked.

Tonraq chuckled. "Tenzin probably already knows that we're on our way."

"Good."

They fell silent, fingers intertwined in the dark, as the ship tossed on high waves. But this wasn't one of the warm, comfortable, quiet moments they usually shared. The questions and unspoken fears weighed heavily on them both.

Finally, unable to bear it any longer he asked, "Your back doesn't hurt, does it?"

"You set me up fine, Tonraq," she told him.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"I'm positive." He could hear the indulgent smile in her voice.

"Then why aren't you sleeping?"

"Someone's heart's been pounding like an anvil…" she paused and considered her choice of words. Then added, "or like a hammer from that shipyard he works at."

"Ah…" He laughed. "I guess you caught me."

She squeezed his fingers gently. "I'm glad you're as worried as I am. It makes me feel less like a silly old woman."

Tonraq sat up and slid his hand along her arm to find her shoulder in the dark. "You're not a silly old woman." His fingers traced their way up her neck and came up to cup her cheek. "You're my beautiful wife, whom I love very much."

Senna laughed. "Flatterer."

He swung his legs out of the cot as he sat up, and leaned down to press a quick kiss to her forehead. Then, with a smile, he let his forehead rest gently against her own.

She reached up and gently stroked the side of his face with her hand, her fingers rubbing against his thick beard. She giggled softly as he hummed with pleasure at her touch. They remained like that for a moment, simply enjoying being in each other's presence.

Then, Tonraq's smile faded and he pulled away. "I'm keeping you up," he said.

"It's alright," she said, "I'll probably get tired eventually. Worrying does that if I recall correctly…"

He let out a heavy, anxious sigh. "Senna…"

"You can't scold me, you're just as worried as I am!" Even though it was meant to sound like a joke, he knew that she was being defensive.

"I am," he said as he rose to his feet, "which is why I'm going to go for a walk."

"Oh?" He could hear the teasing smile in her voice.

"Yes." He made his way to the door of their tiny room—the best they could manage.

"When I was stretching my legs earlier," Senna said loudly, "I saw a cozy room just a little way down one of the halls. There was a radio in it."

Tonraq chuckled. "Are you saying I should try and find out what's going on?"

"Please."

The desperation in her voice damn nearly broke his heart.

His eyes slid closed and frowned and he nodded. "Of course."

He hoped to every spirit he could think of that Korra would be alright when they got there.

"Tonraq?"

He stopped dead in his tracks. He wanted to turn back, to go to her and hold her close and tell her that it would be alright, but he knew that it wasn't the time. They both knew better than to lie about the way things were. Lying never helped anyone and it was only comforting for a little while.

Nevertheless, he could hear the vulnerability in her voice as she said: "Come back with…" she faltered and he heard her breath hitch in her throat, "with good news if you can."

Tonraq considered her request. He realized he was quiet for too long. "I can't make any promises…"

"I know."

He turned to smile comfortingly down at her, but stopped as soon as he realized that she couldn't see him. There was no point in offering comforting expressions to a black void. So, he said the only thing he could:

"I love you."

She replied, "I love you too."

And then he stepped out into the dimly-lit passageway, checked his pocket to be sure he had the keys to the room, and closed the door.

Tonraq stared at the metal door for a moment and reached up to massage the back of his neck. He let his head drop and sighed heavily as he worked a big knot he'd just discovered. It'd come up on him earlier when he'd been on deck, clearing the waves for the ship.

As the boat heaved again, Tonraq found his gaze drawn upward. It felt like this shift was getting worn out. Maybe he'd go up and put himself to use again. It was better than wasting his time sitting around on the lower decks.

But before he went topside and worked himself into complete exhaustion, he needed to find that little room his wife mentioned. He'd promised to bring her news. And he was itching for an update anyways.

So, he set out to find that warm little room with the radio that Senna had mentioned to him. He suspected he knew which room she was talking about—it was on the deck above this one. A cozy little space where sailors and passengers could congregate and listen to whatever news a dingy little radio in the middle of the room managed to broadcast.

As he walked, along the long, dimly lit passageway to the stairs to the upper deck, Tonraq found his eyes and hands drawn to the walls which surrounded him. His searching fingers dragged across the smooth metal surface as he took in the form of the interior of the ship. These hulking, iron cargo vessels always fascinated him. Their construction was so different from the smaller wooden boats he typically worked on.

Wood was a versatile material that could be shaped and bent with the correct application of heat and water. There was a warmth to wood that cool, hard metal lacked. And yet, as Tonraq paused to rest his palm on the smooth steel, letting himself feel the deep hum of the engine, he felt that there was something profoundly beautiful about the cold, solid substance.

He suspected that it was because it reminded him of ice.

He'd never actually done any repair or construction work on a metal ship. The only work he'd ever been asked to do was scrape barnacles off the bottom of the hull. Demeaning work, but the merchants who came down south with barnacle-caked hulls paid damn well for a scraping.

Most metal vessels were owned by the Fire Nation or the Earth Nation. While the Northern Water Tribe had purchased several, they were still a rarity in the South. But that was because the South's economy relied predominantly on agriculture and fishing. They cultivated the food and shipped it north to the Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdom where scattered denizens of the Southern Tribe still lived in the wake of the disruption of the hundred year war.

Tonraq specialized in fishing vessels—small boats for fishermen, hunters, and occasionally the recreation of the absurdly wealthy. The Southern shipyards were hardly the most popular with the big-name industrialists, but when someone needed help with anything, from an antique Northern Water Tribe elephant whale bone and tiger seal-skin canoe to the wooden filigree on a ridiculous yacht with 'customized hydro-jet features,' they came down to visit Tonraq and his compatriots.

And he loved every second of his work. The living materials—bone, skin, and wood coming together to form Water Tribe vessels as they had been made for generations…

Yet the idea of constructing something like this metal ship intrigued Tonraq. He couldn't help but wonder what it would take to create a craft of this size and magnitude. Even this low-quality steam freighter was easily twice the size of the kind of ships he worked on. How many men would the work take? How much fire? Would they need metal benders to finish something like this?

Tonraq smiled wistfully and lightly tapped his knuckles against the metal.

 _What would it take to build a ship like this?_

 _Talents that he, a mere Water Tribe naval architect, sorely lacked._

He chuckled and moved on.

He found the dimly lit, narrow stairwell to the upper decks and made his way up to the next floor. As soon as he opened the door to the next level, he heard a tinny voice echoing down the hallway. That would be the radio.

He took a deep breath and glanced around cautiously. Sometimes people on the upper decks got touchy if people from lower decks came up to skulk around. This deck was reserved for crew and passengers who could afford a decent room. He hadn't noticed it earlier, but the hallway lighting and the air were both far better up here and the walls were cleaner. He'd have to bring Senna up later for a bit of fresh air.

As he made his way down the hallway toward the room with the radio, his fingers absently reached out to trace the metal panels again and his eyes drifted to where he was making contact. It wasn't exactly the best craftsmanship he'd seen, but metal boats weren't built to be epitomes of beauty and skill, they were built for their durability, functionality, and…

He recognized the tinny voice on the radio.

Tonraq's shoulders slumped and he bit back a groan and rolled his eyes. He could already feel the headache coming on. He nearly turned around to walk back down to the lower deck right then and there.

It was his younger brother, Unalaq.

The Northern Chieftain was running his damn mouth again.

He reached up, ran a hand over his face, and reminded himself that he'd promised Senna that he'd listen for news about their daughter's safety. He took a deep breath to steel himself against anything his brother might say that would… aggravate him and continued up the hall. But he walked a little more slowly.

There was no love lost between Tonraq and Unalaq. The situation between them had been tense for a long, long time. For his part, Tonraq couldn't understand why his brother hated him. All he knew was that from the moment he'd been banished from the North, Unalaq had set out to make his older brother's life as difficult and miserable as possible. And since Tonraq did not know what he'd done and Unalaq refused to explain anything, the ex-crown prince was left to stew in his frustration and ire.

He supposed that it was possible that Unalaq feared him as a rival for the throne. It was the only explanation that Tonraq could fathom. But that fear was entirely misplaced.

Of course, during the first few months of exile hardly a day had passed that he hadn't thought and dreamt of how things might have been… He'd spent hours imagining himself as chief, fantasizing about being on the throne, and visualizing all the great good he'd have done. But then he'd met Senna and they'd fallen in love, and slowly all his old desires and regrets had faded away. By the time Korra had come along, Tonraq's dreams of a life as the Chief of the North had almost entirely vanished.

Nowadays, there were rare, brief moments when he contemplated the course his life might have taken if he hadn't been banished. However, he found that he didn't like the man he suspected he might have been. Occasionally, he had nightmares about waking up in a room in the Northern Palace that he didn't recognize, next to a woman he'd never met, surrounded by men who secretly hated him—as if his life with Senna and Korra was nothing more than beautiful dream. In his worst nightmares, he met Senna, but she was with another man…

 _Those were the absolute worst._

No, Unalaq had nothing to fear from him. He was glad he wasn't the Great Chief of the Northern tribe. He liked his job as a naval architect and he appreciated that his dealings with Southern politics were limited to acting as a local administrator and advisor. He had enough tough calls to make at the shipyards. Dealing with the backstabbing and underhanded behavior of politicians just seemed like too much right now.

Tonraq had tried to explain his feelings to his brother again and again. He'd written hundreds of letters to the Northern Chief explaining that he didn't grudge him the throne, that he liked his job as a humble shipyard worker, and that he was genuinely happy. He loved the South, he loved his wife, and he adored his daughter—a strong, fierce girl who happened to be the Avatar!

He had so much to be proud of. He couldn't imagine begrudging his brother the throne and all the responsibilities that came with it!

But no matter how eloquent the missive, Unalaq had never once been moved. And while Tonraq didn't resent Unalaq for his seat and title, he did begrudge his brother for the nearly endless barrage of attacks on his happiness, safety, and family.

When he'd written his brother about his happiness with Senna, no less than five strapping Northern men showed up to try and steal her away from him. When he'd mentioned that he was thinking of settling in the South, his brother had tried to influence the Southern politicians to banish him from that region as well…

And then there were the attempts on his life. The frame-ups that had landed him in jail with unsavory characters who'd been paid to put an end to him, the assassination attempts… Each instance providing just enough evidence to point to the Northern Chief, but never offering enough proof to let Tonraq call out his brother.

By the time Korra had been born, Tonraq had long since stopped trying to talk to his brother about the bad blood between them. He'd made peace with the fact that Unalaq hated him and had decided that if he couldn't change his brother's feelings he'd just return resentment with resentment… without the attempted murder of course…

So, when Unalaq had shown up at their house to offer congratulations about Korra being the Avatar both Tonraq and Senna had been less than hospitable. Unfortunately, all their attempts to keep Unalaq away from Korra hadn't been entirely successful. He _still_ insisted on visiting the South Pole every year and making a nuisance of himself—posturing and lecturing like some kind of Guru.

Tonraq hadn't thought that he could resent his brother more after the assassination attempts. However, Unalaq's arrogance and holier-than-thou behavior and efforts at being 'friendly' with Korra had succeeded in getting under his skin like nothing else. Even now the sound of his brother's dry, dull voice roused his ire…

[ _…Earth Queen has mentioned that the Avatar's guardians failed to adequately protect her. I am inclined to agree with that statement considering the current situation…_ ]

He knew he was close. He could hear his brother clearly now. He could hear the soft hush of a small assembly of people in a room with an open door just up head.

Tonraq heaved another deep and heavy sigh as he pushed his way into a small, well-lit, crowded room. He pushed himself into the assembly and waded through the swell of people to stand close enough that he could hear the small radio.

He found himself elbow-to-elbow with a friendly-looking, bearded sailor, who was sporting a rather beaten looking rain slick. He leaned down to the man next to him, "What's he talking about?"

The man glanced at him. He was frowning deeply. "It's a broadcast from earlier today," the man told him, half-whistling his words through the few teeth he had left, "They're replaying it for those who missed it. You know, rek-cordings? New-fangled technology-trick."

Tonraq nodded, "I know what recordings are, I just want to know what he's talking about."

The bearded sailor opened his mouth to reply, but the tall, hard-looking woman in front of them turned sharply and shushed them.

[ _Shouldn't we address the incident? Shouldn't the world know what the young Avatar has been subjected to while held by Equalists? Shouldn't they understand the depth of contempt the Equalists have for tradition, order, and balance? I think the world should know what kind of disrespectful monsters these men and women_ _ **really**_ _are._ ]

Tonraq grimaced and bit back a groan of frustration and rage.

 _Uncle Unalaq was taking an interest in his niece again._

He found himself recalling the countless occasions that his brother had tried to worm his way into the family's good graces immediately after Korra had been declared the Avatar. He'd tried to go through Senna, Tenzin, the White Lotus leaders, various other national leaders… he'd even tried to bribe Tonraq.

 _That hadn't gone over well…_

But Tonraq had learned the truth about his brother over the long years of putting up with every form of political and extra-political fuckery his brother could throw at him. Unalaq only took an interest in people or things who would give him power. And when he was done leveraging those people and things, he'd get rid of them. Often in the most brutal fashion imaginable.

Tonraq had dedicated a lot of time and energy to keeping his daughter away from Unalaq. He'd made sure that her connection to the Northern chief was kept out of the papers and he'd gone so far as to purposefully neglect to mention his connection with the young Avatar in any correspondence with old friends and allies. His daughter didn't need Unalaq in her life.

But now, the Northern Chief was taking a public interest in Korra and Tonraq knew from experience that it could only mean one thing:

 _Unalaq saw an opening._

Tonraq clenched his teeth and folded his arms in front of his chest in disapproval. He could already tell that his chiefly brother was about to give him and his family a lot of trouble…

[ _And then there is what you have told us all, Tenzin. The Avatar herself saw this_ _ **Amon**_ _strip the bending from a group of powerful benders. We must assume, therefore, that Amon has this ability and that his claims are true—that he has stripped Korra of her bending and, in doing so,_ _ **stripped her of her title as the Avatar**_.]

Tonraq's brown creased in concern. He knew he'd just heard the crux of Unalaq's plan, but he couldn't quite make sense of it…

What did Unalaq have to gain by stripping Korra of her title?

Over the radio, Tenzin let out a squawk of shock. [ ** _What?_** ]

Tenzin's outburst was echoed throughout the room by many men. The soft murmuring of shocked and confused voices filled the space, but others were listening solemnly and quietly, brows furrowed in pre-emptive concern, their eyes fixed on the box. He could tell that they already knew what was coming. They were the ones who'd heard it before, but hadn't quite understood.

[ _What do you mean, Chief?_ ] the announcer asked.

Tonraq turned his attention back to the radio. His eyes were riveted to the small box. Its scuffed and dented metal panels suggested that the little device had seen many nights of gambling and bad bets. And all Tonraq could think was that it was a good thing Senna wasn't in the room, because she's have picked up the little box and smashed it by now.

Tonraq shook his head and smiled. But the memory of his wife brought him back to the issue at hand. She wanted news. He was here to get some.

Unfortunately, he still wasn't sure what Unalaq had in store for them. At this point, he could only guess that it had something to do with taking away Korra's title as the Avatar.

 _But that made no sense!_

If Korra was no longer the Avatar, then Unalaq had no reason to come after her. So why would he even bring it up, except to gloat at the fact that Korra was just a girl from the South. Just Tonraq's daughter.

 _Just… Tonraq's daughter…_

 _…_

 _… but who was Tonraq?_

A chill ran down his spine.

 _If she was only_ _ **his**_ _daughter—the daughter of an exiled prince…_

His eyes widened and mouth fell open in shock and horror as understanding washed over him. As the Avatar, Korra could not be made a tool of a single state. She was of all nations and separate from all nations, because she belonged to all people…

But as Tonraq's daughter she was a valuable tool for the Northern Throne.

He didn't remember all the particulars, but the children of exiled princes and princesses were usually required to return to the capital to live in the royal house. There they would serve the throne as political pawns to be bartered, deployed as hostages in place of royal-blooded children, or even married off to other nations to help cement an alliance… And the chief retained absolute authority over all of them.

The northern chief continued speaking: [ _As I understand it, Korra is no longer the Avatar. Amon has usurped her title and made himself into a Dark Avatar—a being who will bring nothing but Darkness and Chaos into the world_.]

Tonraq drew in a sharp deep breath as he realized that his brother was lying. Unalaq was _always_ blathering on about how the Avatar was more than a bender and how her spiritual development was vital. He didn't believe for a second that the loss of her bending removed her title. He was just saying it to make the rest of the world think that it was true…

Because once everyone else believed it, Unalaq would be able to take Korra away from the White Lotus and her family easily. And once Unalaq had Korra in his power, he'd manipulate her and use her—just like he used everyone else.

Unalaq had found the leverage he needed to get his hands on the Avatar…

From there it was only a matter of time before Unalaq managed to do some real damage…

Tonraq's brow knitted, the corners of his mouth turned down sharply. He could feel his fingers biting into his flesh. If Unalaq thought that he could take his daughter away from him, he had another thing coming…

[ _Could you explain your stance a little more clearly, Chief Unalaq?_ ] The announcer sounded cautious, almost afraid.

Tonraq didn't blame him. The poor man didn't know who he was dealing with. Unalaq was a cunning, low-down eelsnake.

But Tonraq had a good sense of how low his brother would go to get his way.

Unalaq clarified his previous statement. [ _If Avatar Korra's ability to bend has been taken away, if it is indeed gone forever, then she is no longer the Avatar. She is no more powerful than any other ordinary, non-bender girl_.]

"So… the Avatar's not the Avatar anymore?" a woman in a heavy, tattered coat asked.

Tonraq shook his head. "That's not true and he knows it."

"Well, you heard the chief," another voice commented, "If he says she's not… well, he knows about those things, you know?"

Tonraq looked around the room and took in the faces of the men and women assembled here. They were wide eyed and ignorant. They'd never had to sit through hours of lecture on the nature of the Avatar. They only knew what they were told and believed their leaders without question.

For the first time, Tonraq felt afraid… If people didn't know what was going on, if people believed what Unalaq said… Unalaq would take the Avatar and no one would stop him!

Unalaq began to speak again. [ _Not only does this reveal the depth of the so-called Equalist Revolution's hypocrisy—their treatment of a single, defenseless, young non-bending woman has been nothing short of_ _ **contemptible**_ _—it shows the depths of their derision for the bending population. Even ex-benders will not be spared violent abuse_.]

Unalaq's words drew another reaction from the assembly. There was a low, murmur that spread through the small assembly—like the growl of a cornered dog.

Tonraq's eyes scanned the room again, taking in the sight of creased brows, hard mouths, and fierce eyes.

 _The crowd was getting angry._

Clearly there was more to this situation. This wasn't just a power grab. Declaring that Korra wasn't the Avatar and therefore implying that he had right to her was one thing. Riling up benders across the globe… that was something else…

 _So, it was a multi-point agenda. How fun._

Tonraq glared at the radio and hoped his brother could feel his anger. He wanted his younger brother to know that his big brother was onto his tricks and that he wouldn't get away with it… _not this time…_

Unalaq ploughed on. [ _I cannot emphasize enough that Amon and his followers are essentially forcibly holding a young water tribe girl against her will_.]

Tonraq drew a deep breath. The way that Unalaq was talking about Korra… like she was a damsel or a princess who'd been plucked from a palace… As if she were the helpless, hapless victim of Amon and his equalists… That was dangerous rhetoric… Those were fighting words in the North and South. And Tonraq could tell that it was affecting the audience…

The murmuring in the room hadn't quieted, if anything the crowd becoming more agitated. The water tribe men were getting worked up about all this talk of young water tribe girls being held by foreign men. He thought he caught a comment about the 'great dangers' of Republic City—a Northern sentiment about how young girls shouldn't be allowed into major cities or areas where they might encounter foreign men or mingle with men outside the tribe.

And then Tonraq heard a few unique water tribe words, and he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

 _Blood._

 _Honor._

 _Family._

His mouth fell open in shock.

These were the foundations of the Water Tribe. _The heart of their culture._

Tonraq's gaze snapped back to the radio. His eyes were wide with shock and horror. He gaped at the little box that sat unobtrusively on a small table against the far wall.

 _He wouldn't dare! It was an act of depravity!_

 _He wouldn't dare use the oldest and most sacred traditions to-_

Unalaq continued. [ _Now, you must understand that within my tribe such actions against a young woman are considered deplorable. I shouldn't even have to_ _ **begin**_ _describing how inappropriate this situation is, particularly for a_ _ **young, vulnerable, water tribe girl**_ _… But to add insult to injury,_ _ **Korra is my niece**_.]

Tonraq's mouth closed with an audible click and teeth connected with teeth and proceeded to clench. He drew his next, sharp breath through his teeth as his jaw tightened and his eyes widened. His fingers dug into the flesh of his arm and his back straightened before bending back, making him appear even larger than he was before.

All around him, people muttered and whispered and wondered… and it was all just loud enough that he could hear it.

"You don't think…?"

"He

 _is_

traditional…"

"The girl is…?"

"It's war he's after…"

And through it all, Tonraq kept telling himself: _Unalaq wouldn't dare… not that… you can't take that back… you can never take it back… you'll lose the throne forever… your line will be disgraced…_

And even as the small assembly chattered, Unalaq [ _In other words_ ,] Unalaq continued, [ _this man is holding a_ _ **young Water Tribe noblewoman**_ _against her will. We have no idea what treatment she is receiving, but if she has been_ _ **violated**_ _or experienced_ _ **unusual harm**_ _it is a matter of family and tribal_ _ **honor**_ _.]_

Tonraq closed his eyes tightly. "Don't do this." He murmured softly, "You can't take it back if you say it, if you do it, you can't take it back. Don't do this…"

 _But why would he do this? If he went ahead and made this an issue of family honor and declared revenge, then he would have to launch a full-scale attack on Republic City! Thousands would die! He couldn't possibly want to destroy the Capital City of an entire country just to get his hands on the Avatar! Republic City was a beautiful place, a major trade hub in the region, and a bastion of progress and industrial development!_

Unalaq couldn't be that crazy! Sure, he had that whole thing about the spirits and clung to stifling traditional values but it wasn't like…

… it wasn't like…

 _… oh, who did he think he was kidding? It was exactly like that!_

Tonraq closed his eyes and reached up pinched the bridge of his nose. Oh spirits, had he really forgotten what kind of man his brother was? He let out a long, heavy sigh through his nose.

Unalaq resented any and all forms of progress, kept a court of war-hawks, and favored traditional laws over any progressive efforts. He was so traditional that it was said that some of his new laws were even _more_ conservative than the old traditional ones. He hated major industries, looked on new technology with suspicion, and many in his cabinet regarded the United Republic as the source of the North's economic decline—because it was 'stealing' trade and markets from them…

Unalaq said: [ _Unfortunately, no one has seen or heard from Korra to ascertain her wellbeing and safety. What we have observed, however, is how these_ _ **so-called**_ _ **Equalilsts**_ _treat her. I fear I must assume the worst. After all, her_ _ **public humiliation**_ _was a_ _ **stark**_ _revelation about_ _ **the kind of men and women**_ _that make up the Equalist movement_.]

"Fucking hell, brother…" Tonraq groaned softly.

"… brother…?" a voice from nearby echoed in surprise.

Tonraq suddenly felt eyes on him. He did not flinch away from the curious stare of the assembly. He had nothing to hide from these people. He was not ashamed of his heritage.

 _Of his brother, maybe, but not of his heritage._

[ _A violation of filial honor cannot,_ _ **will not**_ _, be tolerated and so I hereby declare a_ _ **Blood War**_ _on Amon, his family, and every Equalist, bender or non-bender, who serves under him_.]

"No!" A withered, crackling voice called out from the back of the room. "He can't do that!"

Someone near the front shouted: "Quiet down old man!"

"I have family in the city! He can't do that!" the old man cried.

"Too late, this speech is from hours ago! The edict is done! It's his right as chief!" Another chimed in.

The woman in front of Tonraq broke in. "Pipe down!"

"He'll kill my son and his wife! My grandchildren!" the old man howled.

"Get over it old timer!" the man in the corner snarled.

"Shut up!" the woman barked "We're trying to listen!"

A warm hand gently touched Tonraq's arm. "You're his brother?"

Tonraq knew it was the old-timer standing beside him from the way his words whistled between his teeth. He didn't look at him, but nodded silently.

[ _As a man, as a leader, my honor is at stake. If I do not adhere to the laws of my people, I cannot call myself a man. My people, my loyal kinsfolk, I address you now: I am your chief. My honor is your honor. My word is the law of the Water Tribe. I have spoken on this matter_.]

Tonraq groaned softly at Unalaq's words. This was an invocation of old traditions. This was calling on the sacred compact between chief and tribe that was respected above all others. It was something that every man in the Water Tribe knew—grandfathers whispered into the ears of eager grandsons who dreamt of being heroes. These were words that would rally the fighting spirit of every Water Tribe boy and man who dreamed of being 'one of the great ones.'

 _It was a call to die for the nation._

One that no one would dare ignore—not when it was about blood and honor. Not when it was about family. Any who tried to revoke it would be censured, punished by their community. They would suffer for reneging the call of the chief.

And Unalaq was exploiting it for his own gains. He would send every man of Water Tribe descent out to die for his cause, just so he could have the Avatar in his power.

 _It was so despicably petty and selfish._

Tenzin's voice emerged again, [ _Unalaq, I know you're angry, but a full declaration of war is too far_.]

Ah… Tenzin. Tonraq grimaced and shook his head. As always, he didn't know the stakes.

[ _I will not back down_ ,] Unalaq said, [ _I have spoken. I have made my intentions known. Words spoken cannot be taken back_.]

Only the people of the Water Tribe would understand that Unalaq could not back down. Once a Blood War was called, there could be no other option. The Water Tribe Chief had literally put his dick on the line.

"I'm with Unalaq!" A man shouted. "These so-called equalists need to learn their place!"

Another voice near Tonraq spoke up, "Are you really the Avatar's father?"

Tonraq glanced down at the man who was asking him. He was another older-looking man with a tanned and heavily lined face—the face of a man who all but lived on these freighter boats. White hair peeked out from beneath a black cap and blue eyes peered from beneath thick bushy white brows. The old man's rain slick was worn and, it seemed, couldn't quite protect the old man from the cold and wet of the sea and sky. The chill of the ocean wind seemed to radiate off his small, frail form.

Tonraq frowned in sympathy at the old man. He probably had friends and family in the great port city. The fear of loss must be terrifying.

He gave the old man an honest answer: "Yes."

The man took hold of Tonraq's arm with shaking hands. "You have to stop him," he said, his voice pleading. "You have to do something! Say something! You can't let him do this!"

Tonraq bowed his head and looked away, ashamed. "A declaration of a Blood War cannot be revoked. And even if I could come up with a way to change this outcome, he would never listen to me."

"You can't let him!" the old man insisted.

"Yeah, so?" another snapped from across the room. "They're going to war. Everyone's going to war."

Tonraq looked up and spotted the speaker, an Earth Kingdom man. He wouldn't know what Unalaq's words meant. He'd take them for just another declaration of war—not a call to the entire Tribe to pick up every weapon and lay siege to Republic City and leave nothing behind.

A woman's voice called out: "No. You don't understand. A Blood War is a call to annihilate the enemy! Unalaq wants to wipe the city off the map!"

Everyone began talking at once. Voices clamored as people began to panic.

"What?!"

"No!"

"He can't do that!"

"The Four Nations will stop him!"

An old man climbed up to stand above the crowd on a low stool. "It's an old and obscure law!" He lectured to the crowd. He pointed to Tonraq. "You know it, because you're his brother! The exiled prince!"

A gasp rippled through the room. Eyes turned to look at Tonraq. There was shock and surprise in the faces of the crowd.

The old man tapped his own chest with pride. "I know it, because I remember the stories! And the Four Nations won't know until Unalaq's submerged the whole of Republic City!"

The crowd began speaking all at once again. Each voice drowning out at least one other in the din they made.

"Submerged!?"

"But that would destroy everything!"

"That's the point!" The old man on the chair shouted.

"Hey, that's where my home is! I've got family there!"

"Me too!"

A man turned on Tonraq, "What does your brother think he's doing?" he demanded angrily.

Tonraq looked around the assembled room. What could he say besides the truth: "He's going to use this to steal my daughter, the Avatar, from the White Lotus, and destroy the biggest economic rival of the North."

He should have chosen his words more carefully. He'd given them more information and from that came more questions, confusion, and half-considered judgement.

"What?"

"You're the Avatar's father?!"

"How could you let this happen!"

"Can't you control her?"

"She's the Avatar! It's not his job to manage her!"

"But she's his daughter!"

"The White Lotus manage the Avatar!"

"What are they doing, huh!?"

From the back of the room, a voice shouted, "She's not the Avatar anymore!"

Heads twisted in the direction of the voice. There was the soft sound of metal scraping against metal as a chair was pushed back. Tonraq heard someone approaching. The crowd parted as a lean, mean-looking water tribe man came to stand in front of him. He had too many scars and he was missing an eye—probably from a fight he'd lost.

The man sneered at Tonraq, revealing two rows of yellowed, rotten teeth. "She's a cheap whore who's been all used up by Amon and his equalists now, isn't she?"

Tonraq's shoulder blades dropped down his back to hug his ribs as he straightened. His massive arms unfolded as his body flexed and tensed. "What did you just say?" he asked, daring the man to say what he'd just said again.

Apparently, the idiot couldn't take a hint, because he leaned forward and snarled: "That bitch should have known her place. Shouldn't have been traipsing around Republic City going wild. She deserves what happened to her. Now her uncle is going to make sure she can't drag the reputation of the noble house of the north down any further…"

Tonraq's head tilted back and he looked down his nose at the tiny man. "Say that again…," he growled.

"I said," the man leaned up to glare at him "your daughter is a _fucking whore_ who deserves to die for bringing dishonor on the noble house of the North."

Tonraq didn't even think about it. He hit the man square in the face. No bending, no fancy moves, just a clean, hard blow to the face.

The crowd recoiled immediately. The small, mean man tumbled across the metal floor to sprawl like a rag doll at the feet of the assembly.

Tonraq looked around the room calmly. The crowd had pulled away from him after that brief altercation. He had the attention of the people in this room, he may as well put it to good use.

"Listen," he said. "I know exactly what my brother, Uanlaq is planning and if you think for a second that I will let him get away with it, you're wrong."

He took a deep, slow breath and squared himself to face the people in this room who were all looking at him with wide, expectant eyes. "The Avatar is more than a bender and Unalaq cannot simply deny her status as a bridge between the human and spirit realms. He cannot use her as an excuse to take out a city that is an economic rival. He cannot use this as an excuse to take the Avatar away from her guardians and bring her into the power of a single nation. There are international laws. Not even a chief of the Water Tribe is permitted to break those laws. If he tries, then it is my duty and the duty of the Four Nations to remind him that he must respect them."

A quiet murmur began in the room. Tonraq thought he saw a few eyes light up. He turned away sharply.

As he took his leave, he heard someone else speak up, "I don't know anything about the Avatar, but I do know one thing: you don't cross Tonraq, the exiled prince of the North, the Polar Bear Dog General of the Northern Army and get away with it! If things had been different, you'd be swearing to his good name, instead of Unalaq's! And his daughter, the Avatar would be heir to the Northern throne!"

Tonraq winced as he began making his way quickly down the hall. He kept his head down and his eyes averted. He didn't want to be remembered or recognized by anyone else for the man he'd been over twenty years ago.

There was a part of him that wondered why he even bothered to hide his face. After all, a large group of people now knew who he was. It was a little late to try and hide his identity, but this was not a good time to reveal himself as an exiled prince.

The broadcast had revealed that things were much worse than he'd ever imagined. Unalaq was after the Avatar and he was out to wipe Republic City off the map. And he was exploiting traditional Water Tribe laws to do it…

Revealing that he was Unalaq's political rival? At a time like this? People would get ideas. And ideas got people into trouble… the last thing Tonraq wanted was another assassination attempt. He couldn't afford that. His family couldn't afford that. He didn't need that trouble.

Tonraq sighed heavily as he pushed open the door to the stairwell that would take him topside. He had no good news for Senna.

[] [] []

In a small, cluttered storage room, down a nearly forgotten hall in the equalist complex, four figures sat hunched around a small, rickety, round table. Cigarette smoke coiled toward the ceiling, filling the dimly lit area with a pale grey haze. Electric Future Industries lanterns flickered as their batteries began to fail, causing the shadows of the small assembly to jump and dance.

A small, antique clock, situated in the middle of the table, chimed four times. There were still several hours before dawn broke across the city. But they were running out of time.

The table was covered with papers and open files. Three ashtrays were scattered across its surface. Two were nearly full of burnt out ends. The third, situated conspicuously close to Amon and Tarrlok's seats, remained entirely empty.

The lieutenant, Zhen, sat hunched forward in his seat, resting his elbows on the table and his chin on his folded fingers. The dark circles under his eyes looked like they were trying to drag his heavy head down to the table. A lit cigarette dangled precariously from between his pale lips, which were stretched in a thin line. His eyes darted, unseeing, over the words on the page in front of him.

He looked completely exhausted, but he was doing quite well compared to Sato. The industrialist lay slumped over the table snoring. A space had been cleared to accommodate the heavy-set man's bulk. No one paid him any mind beyond keeping the manila file-folders and papers away from the space his body occupied.

Tarrlok leaned back in his chair, tilting it to balance unsteadily on the back two legs. His eyes were trained on the darkness overhead. His jaw moved back and forth slowly, as he ground his teeth. The dark circles under his eyes aged him, making him appear much older than thirty-seven.

Amon watched them all quietly. He was taking a break from reviewing his own pile files. His eyes ached and he could feel a creeping numbness settling into the surface of his skin. He could only partially feel the muscles of his face twitch and spasm from the strain of remaining awake and alert for so long. He desperately wished he could just…

His eyes slipped closed for a fraction of a moment.

He welcomed the blessed darkness that engulfed his weary mind. The brief moment of relief from the ten thousand little aches and pains he hadn't even noticed was a welcome respite. The surface of his skin tickled in pleasure as the flow of blood and vital energy returned to all the parts of him that had become blocked by the ever-tightening, corded, tension of his muscles. He felt his body list to one side ever so slightly…

He forced his eyes open. He set his hands down on the table and carefully righted himself in his seat. It felt like a monumental effort just to force the lids of his eyes apart and open and to pull his body upright. He leaned forward and shook his head sharply.

 _Let Unalaq come_ , he thought, _let Unalaq come and bring his armies down on us. Let him drown the whole of Republic City in seawater and ice. Just let the bastard come so I can rest._

Zhen spoke up, "How are we doing?" Even his deep, gravelly, voice sounded raw. For once, Amon was certain that it wasn't the chain-smoking at work.

Ah, Amon's mind drifted in a subdued haze. His gaze focused on the cigarette in Zhen's mouth. What he wouldn't give for a fag right now… Too bad 'Amon' didn't smoke. Too bad he'd quit the habit ages ago to keep his body in peak condition for combat…

Too bad he'd sworn that oath to avoid romantic entanglements…

… _because right now he'd give just about anything to have Zhen's mou-_

Sato stirred, drawing Amon from the dangerous line of thought. The industrialist's limbs jerked and twisted in surprise and discomfort as he came awake. He pulled himself up to look around the able tiredly. "I… I was just resting my eyes…"

No one argued with him or debated the point. They were beyond reprimanding the industrialist for sleeping on the job. There was no point meditating on contemptuous envy at a time like this.

Amon turned his gaze back down to the file in front of him. He stared at the sepia-toned photograph of his brother—no, not his brother. He had to think of him as Councilman Tarrlok. The man in the picture, the man beside him at the table, was Councilman Tarrlok.

 _Ugh, what was the point? He'd never once stopped thinking of him as 'brother.' Why should he start now?_

He needed to focus.

So, he'd been doctoring a file on his brother, fixing the information, adding and subtracting from the knowledge to try and include just enough to be convincing, but not enough to give anything away. It had to be just convincing enough that no one would question it, but not so obvious that it gave away any inconvenient or unfortunate truths. He didn't want the world to know that he and his brother were Yakone's sons or that he shared his brother's abilities.

Not yet.

 **Not ever.**

 _But 'not ever' wasn't an option anymore…_

Shame ate at him.

He turned his focus to the contents of the file. He remembered that there was something wrong with it, but he couldn't identify the particulars. He tried to find the problem, but the words on the page refused to cooperate. They bent upon the page before him like water…

… or blood…

He snapped the file closed and looked away sharply. He felt the eyes of the others on him. He swallowed and opened the file again.

The words were normal again. But the recollection of his hallucination made him feel ill.

He hated dwelling on his past, but it seemed that everything always cycled back to blood and the abilities he shared with Tarrlok. As Amon he was liberated from his dark histories, but now, as he wrote and rewrote his story with Tarrlok, unweaving and interweaving the patterns of their lives he felt like the past was coming back. No matter how deep he buried it, no matter how far he ran, his father's memory followed him like a vengeful ghost. And now, as the words on the page seemed to again bleed into each other and slide along smooth, thin surface of the paper, he felt a weight like lead form in his gut.

The past was catching up with him again.

He had to run away and leave everything behind again.

 _…again…_

But he knew that he couldn't keep running from it.

He couldn't keep doing this.

It was too much to bear.

Amon looked away from the file, turning his gaze on the assembled group. Was there really any point in continuing? Was there any further purpose in loading these files with more lies, fictions, and—spirits help him—truths?

Unalaq would probably see through it and call it a desperate attempt. The Revolution was probably doomed anyway. He just had to accept it…

Acceptance did not come easily.

This felt like defeat.

He cast a glance at Tarrlok, who sat beside him and reminded himself that he had to do this. His brother could not remain an equalist prisoner. Too many called for his execution. He couldn't let that happen.

He looked down at his brother's file and slowly closed it, ignoring the nagging feeling that he'd forgotten something important. There was nothing more to do here. What had been set in place would have to do.

"It's all sorted out." He said the words with a finality that he didn't feel.

Zhen sat up straighter in his chair. "Do you think it's enough?"

Amon pushed back his chair and stood. He began gathering up the scattered papers on the table. "It has to be enough. We're running out of time, and we're out of energy. If we keep at this any longer someone will make a mistake."

He grabbed a few of the files, but then the lieutenant spoke, "Amon."

Amon watched his lieutenant. Zhen opened his mouth, hesitated, and then closed it into a tense line before asking, "Amon, you're going to run off with the Avatar and play at eloping with her, right?"

Amon gave a curt nod and turned back to collecting the scattered files and papers, keeping one eye on the man across from him.

Zhen swallowed, his head dropped as he stared at the surface of the table in front of him. The way his shoulders hunched and his averted posture suggested shame or, perhaps embarrassment. And then he straightened. "If we can convince the Equalist movement that this is a good thing, would you be able to, perhaps, return?"

Amon's chin moved as he unconsciously telegraphed the shift of his attention from the files in front of him to Zhen. Zhen met his eyes with a look of quiet, unspoken longing and concern. Amon quickly turned his attention back to the scattered papers, unable to meet his lieutenant's gaze.

He didn't want to say anything, but he could feel Zhen's translucent blue eyes boring into him. That look seemed to demand some sort of pledge or promise that he was not prepared to make and ill-equipped to keep. But denying his lieutenant became more difficult by the second. "If I am able to return, I will do so." He said at last.

"When?"

Amon flinched, but he was certain that no one noticed. He'd become adept at hiding such small reactions over the years, but he shouldn't have reacted at all. The effect his lieutenant had on him was unnerving at times. He forced himself to meet Zhen's steady gaze once more and grit his teeth at the sight of the heartbreak and desperation he saw there. In the beginning he'd done his best to curb his lieutenant's attachment to him, but it had become increasingly difficult as time progressed and their partnership continued.

Initially, Amon had sought to cultivate his lieutenant's sense of loyalty and had worked to establish a deep friendship between them. When he'd realized that Zhen harbored romantic interests in him, he'd eased off. He'd been determined to keep his vow of avoiding romantic entanglements… Of course, Zhen had taken Amon's coolness as a challenge and had simply redoubled his efforts to win the equalist leader over and Amon had gone right back to encouraging him…

 _…shamelessly._

He liked the lieutenant and the fact that the lieutenant liked him back was flattering. He reveled in the other man's desire and adoration, it made him feel confident and important. So, even though he knew that he should under no circumstances encourage Zhen's feelings, Amon had gone ahead and nurtured them.

He'd justified his actions to himself as 'growing the revolution,' and to his credit, Zhen's passion for him _had_ grown the revolution. As the lieutenant's affections increased, the number of chi blockers swelled. It was because Zhen was a likable everyman and most people could relate to him. When others saw him hold someone in esteem they followed his lead.

And this would have been fine—Amon could have used Zhen to gather equalists and manage them, but there was a problem. In spite of his talents, power, and seemingly iron-clad will, Amon was susceptible to flattery and had started to reciprocate Zhen's feelings. Not that feelings were bad or anything, they were things that unfortunately happened. But he knew that feelings clouded judgement…

 _And clouded judgement leads to mistakes…_

Mistakes like dropping one's guard and removing one or more of the carefully constructed masks in front of a violently angry man who hated benders with an almost unrivaled passion…

So, while Amon reciprocated Zhen's feelings. He made sure that he never, ever acted on them, because he knew that a single moment of weakness… a single misplaced touch could smear the scars he'd artfully painted onto his face, exposing…

 _… things…_

Amon slowly turned his eyes back to the files in his hand and mentally reviewed the lieutenant's annotated resume of violence against benders. All of it was deserved of course, the police were worthless in Republic City—declawed and defanged by the wealthy and powerful triads—so Zhen had taken the law into his own hands. And had become quite experienced in taking down…

Amon's throat grew dry and he frowned behind his mask. His fingers gripped the papers in his hands a little too tightly, causing small crumpled creases to take form.

 _…Zhen was quite experienced in taking down men like him…_

And besides, the lieutenant was a good man. He'd been honest and upfront with his much admired commander from the very start. And if they were to… fall into something more complicated than their current relationship, it stood to reason that Zhen would demand the same honesty from Amon…

Zhen would want to know everything about him and Amon feared that the carefully constructed stories would come apart under close scrutiny. And his real, his real self… the reprehensible creature that he was underneath the mask and the face paint…

His eyes were drawn to Tarrlok, his brother, slouched uneasily in the chair next to him…

He held himself in contempt for his past and his nature. He could not imagine that his followers would hold an opinion any different from his own. And the idea of his followers holding him in contempt was…

 _… it was abhorrent to him._

If there was one man in the entire equalist movement Amon knew he could not trust with a single scrap of truth, it was Zhen. So, Amon played a dangerous game. He kept his favorite equalist close, but never let him too close. And he hated himself for it.

He despised himself for indulging in his lieutenant's affections.

If there was one man in the entire revolution that Amon admired, trusted, and valued, it was Zhen. Zhen was everything that Amon wished he truly was—a man who'd been wronged by those more powerful and who dared to strike back against his oppressors with everything he had in him. The lieutenant had lived his commander's story ten times over and he was more suited to wear Amon's name and lead the revolution than the man who currently wore the mask.

While the equalist leader could justify the mess of lies he wove around himself as the means to a great and glorious goal, he could not justify lying to Zhen for selfish personal reasons. So, Amon kept his mouth shut and his hands off his second in command despite numerous, often unsubtle invitations. If he ever started to toy with the idea of going ahead and accepting Zhen's offers, he reminded himself that he frequently enjoyed sleeping and that he would probably never sleep again if he dared take on a lover.

Managing the Revolution was difficult. Running the revolution while sustaining an intimate relationship with a subordinate officer and keeping up the web of lies and illusions he'd built around himself was an act of insanity.

That said, the affection between them was real enough and he owed his lieutenant an explanation. "The first thing you must understand," he said as he carefully arranged the files on the table, "is that my job from this moment onward is to take the Avatar, get as far away from the city as possible, and hide. The further I am from the city, the higher the likelihood of success."

Zhen nodded, "But you could return. How long do you have to wait?"

Sato chimed in, "Surely there are rules about this? These young Water Tribe men would run off with the girl, hold out for a while, and then they'd come home, right?"

Zhen glanced at Sato in surprise, but then turned back to Amon with a spark of defiant hope in his pale, blue eyes, "He's right, surely they'd let you back once the trial is over! It's not like the family has to accept the marriage in order to allow your safe return, correct?"

Amon shook his head and flipped open a file he'd just picked up. He knew he'd already reviewed it, but it kept him from meeting Zhen's hopeful gaze. "If I survive the trial, I will return victorious." He felt that this was the best answer he could give, considering the circumstances. He couldn't think of a better one right now, his eyes felt dry and he was having trouble focusing on anything.

"If you survive?" The hope in Zhen's voice had been replaced by concern.

Sato, however, didn't give them much time to meditate on the morose statement. He let out a harsh, forced laugh, "With the Avatar as your wife?" He folded his arms and shook his head in disapproval. "That doesn't sound victorious at all!" He declared.

There was a soft creak, the tap of two legs meeting the ground, and then the slow screech of wood sliding on stone as Tarrlok's chair was restored to its natural position. "Maybe not your ideal victory, but it would be a triumph in legitimacy," Tarrlok said as leaned forward over the table. His tired, frowning eyes scanned the small assembly, with an expression of deadened disinterest. "The Avatar is the one who brings balance to the world. People care about that. Benders and non-benders know the stories about Aang, and thousands of tales about the Avatars of old.

"There are a lot of non-benders who think your entire movement is _insane_ for going against the Avatar. They have seen her defiance against you as a sign that your methods are intrinsically against the natural order of the world. Marrying her would shut them up and force them to reconsider their stance." The councilman scratched at a dark spot on the tabletop and then checked his fingernails.

Sato and Zhen stared at Tarrlok in surprise. They'd either forgotten he was there, or hadn't considered that insight. Perhaps both.

But Tarrlok had a point. Amon hadn't considered that there might be non-benders who did not follow him. He'd never given much time to those who rejected his tenants and leadership. Apparently Tarrlok had been aware of the fact that not every non-bender had been willing to fall in line with the Equalist Movement. Tarrlok's awareness of the political authority of the Avatar was a given. Their father's obsession with the Avatar ensured that they knew everything about Avatar Aang and the countless myths that made the man more legend than human.

When Tarrlok noticed the shocked faces of Sato and Zhen, he seemed surprised and amused, "What? Did neither of you consider that he'd have to set up a political marriage with her eventually? He had to have at least considered it." Tarrlok tapped his fingers on the table. "And if he didn't marry her, one of you would have had to step up. Or maybe he had some other equalist hidden away whose loyalty to the movement was undeniable?"

"He could just kill her and be done with it," Sato said. "Or even simply take her bending away and let her go live her life as a non-bender."

Tarrlok laughed. "If he killed her, then the next Avatar, a fully capable bender, would be born in the Earth Kingdom. And then they'd be trained from birth to demolish the Equalist movement. Everyone who opposed you would rally around the new Avatar and there would be nothing you could do. If you removed her bending and sent her off, your opposition would still rally around her. She would become a symbol of resistance, for bender and non-bender alike. I suppose you could try to end the Avatar cycle permanently, but no one has ever managed to do such a thing. Ever. And even if you succeeded, you would be faced with those who would blame all wrong in the world upon you for all eternity. And they would never, ever give up."

Sato and Zhen began speaking at once, both angry and shocked at Tarrlok's words. They were so caught up in their arguments against the councilman, they did not notice that their leader had not joined in.

Amon sighed heavily. He'd considered everything his brother had just brought up long ago. When it came to the Avatar, their hands were tied. Killing the Avatar was not an option because it created new vulnerabilities and introduced new and dangerous variables—like the chance that the Earth Queen would find the next Avatar before they could manage it…

No, it was better to destroy the Avatar's status alongside the bending establishment of Republic City than to let the fight drag on indefinitely. The sooner the Avatar's power was gone, the sooner Amon could usurp the title of Avatar, and the sooner he'd be able to bring the Avatar around to the equalist agenda. After all, the former Avatar's support would lend credence to their cause. And once they had the Avatar, taking down the Earth Kingdom and Ba Sing Se would be a simple matter.

His head began to ache. The pain began behind his eyes and radiated inwards and upwards along his temples. The strain of staying awake was getting to him. He steadied his breathing and worked to focus his thoughts again. The pain subsided for the moment.

Meanwhile, unimpressed by the other men's arguments, Tarrlok continued his explanation, "From the start, marrying the Avatar had to be on the table." The councilman pushed a few strands of dirty, unkempt hair out of his face and folded his arms as he settled back in his chair. "And this elopement scheme is actually the best possible way of handling the situation. Everyone will be more sympathetic to a love match than a forced political union. It'd be nothing to hold a big ceremony, marry the Avatar, and lock her up forever—only letting her out to say kind words under threat. Most rational people wouldn't buy that. Her friends and allies would make endless attempts to break her out. That's not even touching on idiots with hero-complexes who'd be looking for a fair damsel to save. The efforts to liberate her would be endless."

The councilman's eyes slid closed. "Eloping with her looks authentic. It's traditional. There are people who still keep the practice alive today. In some parts of the North that's how people get married. It will seem like an incredibly romantic gesture. If Amon's successful, no one will ever wonder if she's being held against her will."

Zhen shook his head sharply. "There's no way she'll cooperate."

Amon closed his eyes to block out the light and forced himself to consider Tarrlok and Zhen's words to the best of his increasingly limited ability. His face ached. The mask felt too heavy. He felt like he was staring down a long, dark tunnel. He reached up, pushed back his hood, and carefully freed the fastenings of his mask. He gently pulled the lacquered wood from his face and set it down on the table in front of him—face up. He stared at his mask. Amon's face stared back at him.

"Of course she won't cooperate," he said, silently marveling at the relief he felt as he moved his mouth and jaw without feeling of the wood constraining him. "I will have to convince her that going along with this farce is a good idea and in everyone's best interests."

He could feel Tarrlok's shock. The Councilman was looking at him as though he'd never seen him before in his entire life, or as though someone he thought he'd known well had just revealed a horrific secret. Amon felt a stab of pride, the scar was quite convincing if he could get this reaction from his own brother, but he didn't let it show. Instead, he reiterated his earlier point to help cement it in his exhaustion addled mind, "She won't agree to any of this, not at first. I just have to convince her that we're right. After all, I'll have nothing better to do for the next year or so…"

"Year?" Zhen asked, he jerked back and stared at Amon as though he'd gone mad. "You have to live, holed up with the Avatar, for a full year?"

Amon felt his lips curve upward in a smile that didn't meet his eyes. The lieutenant sounded shocked, disappointed, and forlorn, as though this were a great and terrible thing. While the Equalist Leader was now far more aware of the opportunity this situation presented, he was inclined to agree with Zhen's unspoken opinion on the matter. But he was also still lucid enough to realize that the situation was inescapable and he did imagine it would take at least six months to break down the Avatar. He was factoring on the other six to account for the time it would take to situate Tarrlok somewhere safe and out of the way so that no one would be able to find him and kill him.

Tarrlok cleared his throat, it seemed he'd regained his composure. "I think a year is a conservative estimate."

Amon turned to give his brother what others might interpret as a cold, hard look. He meant it more as one of offense, though. "Perhaps you underestimate my abilities, Tarrlok?" He didn't need his little brother challenging him right now. That was dangerous for everyone.

Tarrlok laughed loudly, Amon's eyes narrowed. His brother had been laughing frequently of late, but there was no joy in it. He felt his expression soften into concern before he could stop himself. A laugh could convey fear, pain, anger, and countless other negative emotions, but his abstract understanding of the use of laughter hadn't prepared him for this situation. Listening to his little brother laugh like this was painful. The unpleasant sounds Tarrlok had been making were clearly stress-responses.

Tarrlok recovered his composure as he gave Amon a look that seemed caught between disgust and disbelief. "I think you underestimate how stubborn she is and overestimate the power of your charisma." He gave the Equalist Leader a scornful, appraising once-over. "That scar of yours is going to be a problem and I doubt that you have enough natural charm to make up for your _unfortunate_ disfigurement, _pretty boy_ ," he sneered.

Sato gasped loudly. Zhen was on his feet in an instant, ready to lunge across the table at Tarrlok. Amon simply lifted his hand and the lieutenant stopped dead. The Equalist leader chose his words carefully.

"I am willing to let your comment slide, Councilman. I require your knowledge of Water Tribe law, but you're on thin ice."

Tarrlok met Amon's steady, hard glare with cold, lifeless eyes. "The joke's on you. The ice is gone and I'm neck deep in freezing sea water."

The Equalist Leader frowned, he could feel the scar-prosthetic pulling at his lips, turning his expression into a sneer. He was growing increasingly unimpressed with his brother's antics. "Listen…"

Tarrlok rolled his eyes and said, "She likes pretty boys."

Zhen slammed his hand on the table hard. "Amon is handsome! Even with that scar!"

Tarrlok glanced at the lieutenant scornfully. "Maybe to you," he admitted, "but can he really compete with a fresh-faced fire bender twenty years his junior?" The councilman snorted. "Even if _you_ find Amon to be the handsomest man on earth, I sorely doubt that a seventeen-year-old girl is going to share your opinion."

For a passing moment, Zhen and the Councilman stared each other down. Then, slowly, Zhen took his seat, but he kept a baleful eye on the ex-bender who sat to his left. At least three men at the table knew that the lieutenant had said too much.

Sato, meanwhile, was focused something else that Tarrlok had mentioned. "Fire bender?" The Industrialist's brows furrowed in confusion. "What fire bender?" Then he stiffened and straightened in his seat, an expression of complete surprise spread across his face. "You don't mean to tell us that that reprehensible fire bending urchin managed to ensnare the Avatar as well!" He was appalled. "Not that vagrant who seduced my Asami!"

Tarrlok nodded.

"What…" Sato stammered and sputtered, "What is _wrong_ with young girls these days?!" He brought his fists down on the table to emphasize his frustration. "That boy is a worthless good-for-nothing! And if he got the Avatar chasing him, he's a two-timer to boot!" He pressed a heavy hand to his forehead. "Why are young women throwing themselves at him? It's because he's a violent pro-bender, isn't it?"

"Actually, I'd say it has more to do with his lean, athletic build and fine, sharp, Fire Nation features…" Tarrlok said with mild resentment.

Sato shook his head sharply. "How can an intelligent, beautiful young woman be led astray by a… _a rat_ with pretty face?!" He moaned. "How can it be that my daughter _and_ the Avatar have such poor taste in men?!"

Tarrlok simply shrugged. "They're teenagers, what do you expect?"

"But she's the Avatar! Even if she is a teenager, she should still show some…" the lieutenant raised his arms in exasperation, "small amount of wisdom in choosing a partner!" Zhen snapped. Then he waved his had dismissively. "But previous relationships are irrelevant, we should focus on Amon's future."

" _She_ probably doesn't think they're irrelevant. She'll probably measure Amon against every single boy she's ever had a crush on and, forgive me, but I _sorely doubt_ that your leader is secretly a handsome prince, great warrior, or clever scholar who can sweep her off her feet." Tarrlok cast a pointed glance at Sato, "Or even a noble, impoverished youth with a tragic history…"

Amon's frowned at Tarrlok, "While I recognize your concerns, I assure you, councilman, she will become the greatest example of a rehabilitated bender in the new world order."

Tarrlok stared at Amon and raised a brow pointedly. "She'll need to be more than a 'rehabilitated bender' before this is over." The corner of his mouth pulled upward in a nasty smirk.

Amon blinked slowly. Tarrlok was being nasty, but after three nights with less than four hours of sleep between them he could not catch the innuendo. He wished his brother would stop being a smug bastard and simply speak clearly.

Sato glared at Tarrlok, "Of course!" He folded his arms and huffed loudly. "But it will only take a few weeks for her to see that Amon is ten hundred thousand times more of a man than even the best of men! The fire bending urchin is nothing next to Amon!"

Tarrlok rolled his eyes and glared at Sato. "She won't feel that way."

Zhen cut in before Amon could respond. "Perhaps not at first, but given enough time I'm sure he could convince her of the nobility of our cause. She is the Avatar, after all, and they say that Avatar Aang was particularly compassionate and understanding. If she is his reincarnation, if she shares his soul, she should understand and come around to our way of thinking rather quickly. After all, it's her destiny to bring peace and balance to the world. And that is our eventual goal."

Zhen reached into his pocket and extracted another neat, pre-rolled cigarette. "Besides," he continued after drawing a deep breath through the small, smoking roll of tobacco-weed, "young people are often intemperate in love. They're quick to fall wholly and completely in love and prone to changing the fix of their affections whenever it suits them. I find it likely that the young Avatar will quickly forget about the young fire bender when there's a far better suitor available and actively courting her favor…" the lieutenant trailed off as his expression twisted into a sneer of distaste.

Ah, Zhen was jealous.

The lieutenant shook his head, as though trying to dispel an unpleasant thought. "Anyway, considering that this is a young woman we're talking about, one who clearly has a romantic temperament and considering her predilections…" he leaned back in his seat to study the darkness overhead and stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"She's a privileged young woman, pursuing a handsome, young street-rat, who purportedly has a heart of gold…" Zhen said, "That's sell-out pulp-fiction, right there. Factor in a suitable romantic rival, say another girl who is different from her and in some ways her superior," he pointed at Sato, "and that's a very strong-seller. If I printed that I could make a pile of money. Men and women of 'romantic temperaments' eat that up. And if she's actually living it… well," he shook his head and ran a hand down his face slowly. "The Avatar's clearly very romantic and sentimental. I'll bet she wears her heart on her sleeve and fancies herself something of a romantic heroine. Anyone with that mindset is going to fall for romantic gestures that most people would find ridiculous or overblown."

Amon nodded thoughtfully. This was logical and reasonable. If the Avatar was susceptible to the… limited charms of a young, athletic, urchin then she would probably be susceptible to similar overtures. That gave him quite a lot to work with. All he had to do was spin himself as a sympathetic and romantic figure and play up his interest to a level that was unmistakable for anything other than complete devotion.

In retrospect, Tarrlok might have been on to something with that dig about being a romantic hero from a fairy story. There was a genre of romantic literature that dealt with forbidden love and the healing power of 'true love.' As he understood it, women of a romantic temperament were also quite drawn to those stories and, as a result, were quite drawn to the wrong sort of man. He just had to spin himself as the 'right kind' of the 'wrong sort.' The scar could factor into that quite nicely, he just had to emphasize the tragedy of his injury and stress his need for compassion…

Something troubled him about this plan, but before he could consider it, he felt a stabbing pain blossom in his temple, scattering the thoughts like leaves. Whatever it was, he'd think about it again after he'd downed something for the pain. He was running out of a capacity to think. He let his tired mind return to the current conversation.

"… but all I'm saying is that there's no reason that this should take a full year. Maybe a few months at the most, but not a full year!" Zhen said loudly. He looked around the table, "Young people are fickle! I can't even begin to describe the amount of drama I have to sort out when the younger members of our group get into romantic entanglements! It's crazy, but it rarely lasts for more than a few months!"

Amon's brow wrinkled in surprise. What was going on in the ranks now? Amon felt his eyelids droop. He always had a habit of zoning out when Zhen started on his rants about the younger Equalists and the trouble they caused…

"Unless there's some kind of stipulation that you haven't mentioned, Councilman, I fail to see why this elopement should take anywhere near the amount of time that you're prescribing," Zhen snapped.

Amon's eyelids fluttered and he had to remind himself that he wasn't wearing a mask and falling asleep would not be the wisest course of action at the moment…

Tarrlok crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, looking smug. "A year is a conservative estimation, because there is one very important stipulation of the engagement." He gave Amon a pointed look. "The Avatar must return, not only as your 'perfect example of a rehabilitated bender,' but as your willing bride and, shall we say," he coughed delicately, "as the _mother_ of your new world order."

Amon stared at his brother. Clearly Tarrlok was the most well-rested person at the table, because his mind still had the energy to invent euphemisms and innuendos. Amon and his companions were too fucking tired to come up with word play, much less decipher the councilman's inventions.

Zhen seemed to have caught on to something, because he looked surprised. "So, she must be wholly and completely invested in our Revolution?" He frowned deeply. "While I am certain that the wild passions of youth will bring her around, I'm not so sure that anyone would be able to achieve that level of investment without…" he cast an uncertain glance at Amon, "extreme measures…"

Tarrlok looked at Zhen like he was a moron. His blue eyes scanned the table and his expression soured into one of complete disdain. "I meant _literally_."

The Equalist Leader decided that he'd had enough. He straightened and brought his fist down on the table sharply. The pang of sharp sensation, the burst of noise, and the renewed energy in the room all served to bring him back to himself. He glared at Tarrlok. "Stop speaking in riddles, Tarrlok! Out with it!"

Tarrlok gave Amon a slow, nasty smile. "Amon, you're calling on an Old Water Tribe Traditional Law. And ever since Avatar Kayuqtuq there has been one rule that has reigned absolute and supreme over all others."

The urge to strangle his brother became stronger. "What rule is that and why should an Avatar have anything to do with traditional laws?" he growled.

Tarrlok sniffed. "You _might_ recall that Avatar Kayuqtuq put an end to the Thousand Summers War, unified the Northern Water Tribe, and codified a set of standard laws and behavioral expectations. She wrote the first book of Northern Law. She set the standards."

Zhen snorted. "She must not have liked women very much."

Tarrlok shrugged and said, "She made a lot of water tribe chiefs and leaders angry and there were many laws written to confine women in the wake of Avatar Kayuqtuq's demise. In fact, there are three reasons why women were confined to the healing houses in the North. The first reason is that it's good for women to learn healing skills, which are believed to cultivate nurturing tendencies. This makes them good mothers. The second reason is to prevent women from being taken on the battlefield to swell the numbers of the foreign enemy troops through humiliating and vile practices. The third reason, however, is that no chief wants another woman like Avatar Kayuqtuq to make a stand in the North ever again."

Zhen stared at Tarrlok in surprise. "Huh."

"Where was I?" Tarrlok turned back to Amon and gave him a nasty smirk, "Yes. Now, as I was saying, Avatar Kayuqtuq demanded _evidence_ at all trials and tasks. This elopement, ritual and arcane as it is, has been historically treated like a trial. As such, there must be evidence."

Amon stared at Tarrlok through sleep-heavy eyes. "Get to the damn point."

Tarrlok smiled again, nasty as ever. "You can't just 'say' that you married her and expect everything to resolve itself. There must be irrefutable evidence of a successful union."

Amon stared at a point somewhere past his brother's skull. He could feel his brain spinning on the matter, but he couldn't quite wrap his tired mind around what Tarrlok was saying. So, he settled for glaring at his brother with as much fury as he could muster.

Tarrlok didn't flinch. "How unlike you. You're usually more on-point."

"What are the stipulations, Tarrlok!" The Equalist Leader snapped.

The councilman huffed indignantly and explained, "I suppose I should begin by saying that if you come back before three months are up, you may as well kill yourself, or at least smile as you set your head on the executioner's block, because they will kill you."

Amon blinked in surprise.

"As a matter of fact, if you come back with the Avatar before the year is done, you should expect a brutal death at the hands of your would-be-in-laws. They can't be your true in-laws unless you return at least fifteen months after the start of the elopement," Tarrlok declared smartly.

A hush fell on the table at this news.

"Now. Let me repeat myself. I know, you're a…" he eyed the Equallist Leader's scar with a look of disgust and said, "an _intelligent_ , _capable_ , and _charismatic_ gentleman, but I doubt that even _you_ would be able to convince a _sheltered_ _girl_ of a romantic predisposition to _'lie back and think of the revolution'_ within less than six months. When you factor in that she was raised by a militaristic, ascetic order, I think that you're overestimating the force of your character and underestimating the demands and strictness of her upbringing."

Amon didn't even hear the insult. He was busy trying to wrap his mind around why he needed to bed her before the ordeal was finished. Until this moment the Equalist leader had believed that all he needed to do was convince her that marriage was the best possible solution to the problem, play along, receive a pardon, and return to finish his work. That was all that needed to happen. Well, maybe a little brainwashing to force her to keep up the act in the wake of the 'marriage,' but this farce should not be a complicated matter.

But how would sex produce evidence…?

Would they examine her? Would they need to check to see if he'd taken her virginity or something equally ridiculous?

But if they needed to check, then this entire fiasco was already unnecessary, wasn't it? She'd probably already slept with the fire bender… Or she was still untouched in which case this was entirely unnecessary and could be easily resolved. And he'd stayed up all night for no reason whatsoever!

Amon opened his mouth to cuss out his idiot little brother for giving him the run around, but Tarrlok had already started speaking again-

"The point is, however, that you have to provide a three-month grace period to prove the nobility of your intentions before you get her pregnant."

Amon choked on his own breath. He hacked a few times and then stared at his brother in abject shock.

" _He has to do_ _ **what**_ _!?_ " Sato sounded horrified.

Amon couldn't blame the industrialist.

He was also horrified.

"Oh, was I not _clear_ on that point?" Tarrlok asked with acidic politeness. "You didn't think that you could just stand up in front of the _entire Water Tribe Nation_ with the Northern Chief's niece beside you and swear up and down that you married her and that everything is fine now, did you? What part of _irrefutable evidence_ did you fail to understand? You can't just say it. You have to prove it. She must be your wife in every sense of the word—that means that she has to be the mother of your child."

Tarrlok folded his hands in front of him on the table and gave his brother a smug, knowing smirk. "Now, explain to me again, how you're going to convince an angry, kidnapped teenage girl—who thinks that you are evil-incarnate, who has hated and feared you from the very moment she first laid eyes on you—to fuck you. Because after that lovely stunt you pulled terrorizing her, taking her bending, locking her in a miserable, dark cell, and publically humiliating her… I'm _really_ interested in seeing how you manage to pull that one off."

Amon sat back in his chair slowly. His mind was completely blank. He was dazed. Shocked. Completely at a loss. Of all the things he'd expected Tarrlok to tell him, he hadn't expected this.

He glanced at Zhen. The lieutenant said nothing, but he'd turned away sharply. There was an expression of shock and embarrassment on his face.

Suddenly, Amon knew that any hope of potentially kindling a relationship with his lieutenant was gone. Though he'd served the Equalist movement as a brave and ruthless warrior, Zhen was a man of principle. He had nothing but the noblest of intentions. The lieutenant would not allow himself to enter into a relationship with a man who already had a family.

And from the moment Amon had declared his intention to go along with this elopement, he'd set himself on course to create a family. He would have children with the young Avatar, a girl who very likely wished that he'd never been born. And who, if he failed to successfully brainwash her, would probably dedicate the rest of her life to ending his own.

 _This was inevitable._

Amon slowly tilted his head up to stare at the dark ceiling above him and began processing this new development. His mind spun with endless unpleasant possibilities. An encompassing feeling of exhaustion washed over him.

Nevertheless, Tarrlok had made a valid point. He'd acted prematurely. The humiliation of the Avatar had been an immense misstep. He saw that now. Unfortunately, he couldn't take it back. There was no way to change the past. He simply had to move forward with…

… creating a child…

… with the young Avatar…

… to save the revolution…

…

 _Spirits!_

 _It sounded absurd!_

He hadn't planned on this at all. He didn't intend to assist in the perpetuation Yakone's line. He was sure that his father's countless bastards had already done their best to ensure that Republic City was teeming with prospective blood benders. He'd never intended to bring any more children with such vile potential into the world. The thought that he would contribute his own blood had never even occurred to him.

When he'd drafted his plans to marry and manage the Avatar, he'd immediately decided that it would be a union without issue. Perhaps he would indulge in physical intimacy if things went well between them, but it was supposed to be a political union. Any emotionally intimacy within the marriage would be entirely one-sided. She would adore him. In exchange, he would look after her.

He'd decided on everything in the turmoil that had followed the incident at Avatar Aang Memorial Island. After a series of violent confrontations involving his chi-blockers and some recently purified benders, he'd realized that his actions against the Avatar were inspiring bold and violent passions among his followers. He'd anticipated the rise in aggression. He'd planned on it. The issue, however, was the choice of target. He wanted his chi-blockers pursuing _benders_ , not ex-benders.

The pursuit of ex-benders, while cathartic to his chi-blockers, was not feasible in the long-term. He sought to create a peaceful new world order. Prolonging resentment between chi-blockers and ex-benders was not in line with his goals. Marrying the Avatar provided a tidy solution.

She was the ideal candidate. The Avatar was considered the most powerful bender in the entire world. The myths and lore that surrounded her gave her incredible authority among benders and non-benders. With her bending removed, she was the perfect ex-bender for his purposes and the most valuable political hostage imaginable.

It helped that the young Avatar was not entirely unattractive. Pretending a romance with her would not be entirely agonizing.

Of course, all of these plans to marry the Avatar had hinged on a long-term timeline. He'd planned to implement his 'romantic efforts' a year or so after the total conquest of the United Republic. By that time, he would have had a comfortably large house in which he could easily confine her indefinitely. He'd hoped that with enough time and isolation, he'd be able to break the young woman and force her to come around to his way of thinking. Once she began behaving appropriately, he would reward her by taking her out to show off her willingness to go along with the Equalist movement.

But he'd seen sex as a nothing more than a necessary part of the process of inducing compliance. He'd never intended to have children with her. If anyone asked, he'd invent an excuse and adopt a few orphans. He'd always liked the idea of adoption. Couples who adopted children inspired sympathy and seemed particularly generous and charitable to others.

Besides, he couldn't imagine the Avatar as a mother. She was so… violent, uncouth, brutal, and generally unfeminine.

Now he was faced with an accelerated timeline and a plan that would probably take him far from the United Republic. After all, the soldiers of the Four Nations would probably scour the entire nation to hunt him down. He could only imagine the effect his leaving would have on the Revolution and the stress and discontent that his absence might cause.

He also had to account for the effects of the road on his plans for the Avatar. There would be no house where he could imprison her for months or years to forcibly shape her into his ideal hostage. There would be no press-conferences to show off his strides with her. There would be no place for him to retreat to recover from his efforts to destroy her sense of self.

Those facts alone made the task of bringing her around seem insurmountable. But now he was faced with the fact that he would have to coerce her into having sex with him. They would have to create child, another life that would be entirely reliant upon them both…

A feeling surfaced. It closed his throat, made his heart pound in his chest, and caused his stomach to clench painfully. He felt, or perhaps saw the color red, but he couldn't tell if it was a memory or simply a displaced emotion. And yet he knew that whatever it was, it would… _expose_ something within him that he did not wish to see. So he silenced it and cast his thoughts and fears of the hypothetical child from his mind.

 _There was no child yet._

 _He would not think on it again until it became relevant._

After all, if what his brother said was true, he had three months of courtship to do before sexual intimacy was even on the table. Until those three months were up, he would need to focus all his energy toward convincing the young woman that he was the man of her dreams, that bending was evil, and that everything she knew about the world was wrong. Somehow the task of changing her mind seemed much more manageable than convincing her to sleep with him.

He glanced at his brother and took in the Councilman's strangely flat expression. He wondered what his brother had seen in his face. Could he see the fear, the anxiety, the concern that ate at him? Tarrlok's deadened eyes gave nothing away.

"Don't look so betrayed, you two."

Amon blinked in surprise at his brother's words. He looked at Zhen and Sato again. The lieutenant seemed to have slumped further into his seat. His hunched shoulders, frowning countenance and furrowed brow were the picture of dejection. Sato, however, sat stiffly back in his seat, eyes wide and blinking, while his mouth hung slightly open in shock, as though he'd just been slapped in the face.

Tarrlok waved his hand dismissively. "It's like I've been telling you, this is Old Water Tribe Traditional Law. He's taken a high-ranking noblewoman hostage. As long as the equalists shelter him, Unalaq will treat your revolution like an enemy tribe and slaughter everyone wholesale to restore the honor of 'Lady Korra.' Since this is a major slight against the honor of the Northern Royal House, you should know that no act is too low or depraved and no cost is too high to assure their victory." The water tribe councilman said calmly. It sounded like he was discussing the weather, not the impending death of thousands.

He rested his head on his hand and smirked. "That's why he has to take Lady Korra, marry her, and get her with child. He must act to prevent the streets of Republic City from running red with the blood of every equalist Unalaq and his forces can hunt down and slaughter."

Amon reached up to run his hand through his hair. He decided that he was relieved that his brother hadn't gone into the details of what 'no act is too low or depraved' meant. The United Forces would attack in roughly three days. The night before the attack would be a night of the full moon. The equalist leader suspected that Unalaq had every intention of attacking Republic City while the moon was still high and sending in a few of his elite forces to use… certain forbidden techniques that were empowered by the full moon.

If Unalaq acted quickly, he'd be able to commit all sorts of atrocities without the knowledge of the other nations.

Amon ground his teeth at the thought of what the illustrious Northern Chief would get away with if he got the chance. Of course, it was up to the Equalist Leader to ensure that Unalaq never had that chance. The only way to save Republic City was to woo, marry, and bed the Avatar…

So that's what he would do…

Amon clenched his fingers in his hair and pulled gently to try and rouse him from his stupor.

This was exhausting.

He was exhausted.

He was done.

Amon heard the voices around him rise again. He looked up to see the three other men at the table on their feet, arguing loudly. Sato and Zhen were up in arms, yelling about something Tarrlok had said. He couldn't understand what they were saying in his current state, but they seemed to be defending his honor.

At this point, Amon didn't have the energy to inject himself into the argument, so he put an end to it. "Enough!

The three men feel silent, their eyes immediately shifted to fix upon him. Slowly they all took their seats again. Amon watched them quietly, his eyes passing between each of them slowly. The room remained quiet for a time as he ruminated on what to do and say. He was having trouble coming up with anything for once.

Sato broke the silence. "So, are congratulations in order?"

All eyes turned to the industrialist.

Zhen blinked at the industrialist and gaped, but he was the first to respond to Sato's comment. "Congratulations? At a time like this? For what?"

Sato simply stared expectantly at Amon.

Amon met the industrialist's steady gaze for nearly a minute. He could feel his eyes narrowing in exhaustion again, but they quickly widened when comprehension dawned on him.

 _He was getting married._

Typically, when marriage happened among the equalists, he'd made a point of celebrating and offering congratulations to the young couple. This was the case in most organizations—leaders offered their subordinates congratulations on their good fortune. In the event that a member of leadership was tying the knot, it was expected that the subordinates would make an effort to praise their employer's good fortune and compliment his wife-to-be. Most of the time there were festivities and parties…

Very wild parties…

The thought of throwing a party in honor his 'good fortune' seemed hugely inappropriate considering the situation. After all, he was not marrying the Avatar by choice.

But then, he was marrying the Avatar…

Oh spirits, _he was marrying the Avatar._

The full weight of what he was about to do hit him with the force of a speeding satomobile. He was marrying an international authority figure, peace-keeper, and supposed mythological being. If any of the ridiculous legends were true, he was marrying the reincarnation of Avatar Aang… a man more than twice his age…

A man more than twice his age who was inhabiting the body of a young water tribe girl.

His gut twisted clenched as he reminded himself that he also had to get the Avatar pregnant before the year was out.

He'd seen Avatar Aang once in the early winter years of the sage's life, he'd been bald, wrinkly, and his body had just begun taking on the ugly, twisting aspects of a withering tree. He was not a wretched sight, but he wasn't exactly a handsome man in his old age…

Amon counted his stars that he had a three-month grace period to prove the nobility of his intentions. It meant that he had three months to figure out how to either find a way out of it or learn to close his eyes and try not to think of Avatar Aang. And if he didn't find a solution or seal the deal before his in-laws caught up with him…

Well, his in-laws would have armies of well-trained men at their disposal and infinite resources to invent creative ways to kill him…

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

He was going to marry the Avatar in the worst way imaginable, under the worst circumstances imaginable. If he didn't marry her, hundreds of thousands of people, himself included, would die horribly at the hands of the Great Northern Army. If he failed to marry her 'correctly' he would die a horrible, painful death.

Amon shook his head. "No, Sato. No congratulations."

"No?" Tarrlok scoffed. "No congratulations given to the man who will be married to the most powerful person in the entire world before the year is out? Really?"

Zhen glanced at Tarrlok, looked away uncomfortably, and then looked back, his eyes steely and hard. "I know we've been calling her 'the Avatar,' frankly I call her that because I can't be bothered to remember her name. But you know, an Avatar is an Avatar. They're all the same person in the end, right? Reincarnating over and over again… But here's the thing that bothers me, you still talk about her like she's important, like she's _still_ the Avatar, when she's _not_ the Avatar anymore."

Zhen turned, looked at his commander, and said, "Amon is the Avatar now. She can't bend. She's not the Avatar anymore. He's the most powerful being in the world right now, not her. She's nothing."

Tarrlok shook his head. "Even if she's not a bender anymore, she's still a symbol that has immense power. There has hardly been a major event in our history that has not been shaped by the Avatar. The Avatar is in every chapter of every history book ever written. And if there is no mention of the Avatar, then it is a very poorly written history book."

The councilman sighed. "When you factor in the number of myths, legends, and accumulated lore of the Avatar…" he snorted. "Simply taking away bending can't really stand up to tales of a being that ended wars, created islands, and shaped the course of centuries. Amon is simply a symbol of anti-bending sentiments. On the scale of symbolic authority, Amon still amounts to little more than a threat to the current establishment. He's not the living symbol of peace and balance throughout the world. She is. Benders will never recognize him as an authority. She is held in esteem by bender and non-bender alike. There is no way that Amon can compete with that."

"Is she the Avatar or isn't she?" Zhen snapped. "How can she be a symbol of the Avatar without her bending?"

Amon considered Tarrlok's words and then, without thinking, said, "He wouldn't be able to justify the Blood War if she were still a bender." He hadn't meant to say the words out loud, but some part of him needed to hear them. Hearing them made the thought solidify in his mind. The thought hadn't occurred to him until Tarrlok had started waxing on about the Avatar's symbolic importance.

Tarrlok cast him a glance and raised a brow. "So you _do_ know a thing or two." He nodded and addressed the rest of the table. "To answer your question, the Avatar's significance doesn't go away with her bending, but her status as the Avatar in Northern culture is gone."

Zhen opened his mouth to demand further explanation, but Tarrlok pre-empted him and continued:

"Which is to say, most of the world places great importance on the Avatar's power as a bender. Even without her bending, she is still meant to symbolize a connection to the spirit world, but the fact that she is no longer a bender takes precedence and affects her status. So, while people may beg her for spiritual intervention, she is no longer the most powerful bender in existence. According to Northern law, only men are supposed to be benders and warriors, though the rules have changed in recent years…" Tarrlok waved his hand as though brushing the point aside, "Traditionally, benders were male. A female Avatar, as the most powerful bender in the world, could never be held to the standards of a typical northern woman, because she had the power of all the elements and was considered greater than all male warriors. Now that her bending is gone and she can no longer fight or defend herself, her status is reduced to that of a typical northern woman. She is no longer exempt from the expectations of her filial and societal status. In short, she was not counted as a woman until Amon took her bending."

Zhen blinked and asked, "You mean, if she still had her bending…?"

"This wouldn't have happened." Tarrlok let out a heavy sigh. "Unalaq would have been overstepping his bounds. You see, there's a particularly old belief that even if the Avatar wears the body of a woman, she doesn't count." The councilman began to fiddle with a stray pen. "The Avatar is more than male or female. She is more than human. She is The Avatar…" He huffed and sulked. "Whatever that means…"

The table fell silent again as the men contemplated this information. Zhen lowered his head to quietly contemplate the grain of the table before him. Sato furrowed his brown in deep concentration and stared at a point somewhere to the left of Tarrlok's head. Even Tarrlok leaned back to fall into meditative introspection as he turned his gaze upward into the hazy darkness overhead.

Amon watched them silently.

 _Whatever that meant indeed…_

Presumably, that old saying was a statement of the Avatar's power and authority. Or perhaps it was another comment affirming the 'great myth' of the Avatar. At this point, interpretation did not matter.

Tarrlok's comments were informative, but deeply troubling. Amon wished that he'd known these beliefs and traditions before he'd acted against the Avatar. Unfortunately, he was not an expert in politics, international law, or cultural beliefs. He knew Republic City politics and he knew Ba Sing Se politics, but he knew little to nothing of the Water Tribe's laws or politics. He'd left the north before he'd had the chance to learn anything of great significance…

Zhen broke the silence again. "Amon, you said that you would return if you survived. What did you mean by that?"

Amon studied Zhen's face. His lieutenant was clearly worried. He could see those lines on his brow deepening the way they always did when he was concerned. However, the Equalist Leader wasn't sure he could answer the question fully or honestly. After all, his knowledge was based on stories and lore recited around fires on dark nights. So, he deferred once more to a more knowledgeable party. He just hoped that Tarrlok would clearly articulate the stakes. "Would you care to explain the practice of 'hunting the wolf-fox?'"

The councilman responded immediately. "Well, typically when an elopement of this kind takes place—that is, an elopement where the bride's family is extremely displeased with the match—it's customary for the bride's family to 'hunt the wolf-fox.' The phrase is in reference to how wolf-foxes are generally hunted down after they've raided a family's arctic hen house. It means that the bride's family will," he cleared his throat delicately, "call upon all their friends and neighbors to hunt down the 'thieving low-down bastard-vermin' and slaughter him and his accomplices like the cowardly jackal cats they are. Since it's a member of Unalaq's family, he should expect the entire Water Tribe, North and South, along with every adult male of water tribe descent to come after him and attempt to murder him in cold blood."

Amon nodded—that was about what he thought. "Which is why I was reluctant to involve any non-bender of Water Tribe descent. As I recall from the stories, failure to strike at such an enemy is considered a betrayal of the clan… or in this case, a betrayal of the tribe. It's high treason and a mark of dishonor. I can't be sure that anyone will back down."

Zhen and Sato blinked, wide-eyed and pale-faced, at the two men opposite them.

Amon took a moment to study them. He always found it interesting how different people could be in their expressions. Both men were shocked and appalled, but Sato tended to let his mouth hang wide-open and his body slumped forward—he gaped like a large swamp bass grouper. Zhen, on the other hand, had a narrower 'gape' and leaned back in his chair. He looked far more like a gaunt-faced spirit-mask—the ones used to represent sickness spirits or other evil beings that came in dark hours…

Amon heard Tarrlok continue speaking, "They'll be obliged to hunt you down once you've proven your level of investment in the union."

The Equalist Leader grimaced in disgust.

Sato's brow furrowed in confusion as he recovered himself. "You're saying that it wouldn't just be benders?" He looked between the Equalist Leader and the Councilman. "Are you saying that even members of the Revolution will attack Amon over this… this… ridiculous fiasco? Even though he's trying to save us all?!"

Sato's words brought Zhen out of his stupor. He looked around the table and shook his head in disbelief. "But all the men and women in our movement believe in Equality! They put Equalism first! You don't really believe that your followers would betray you just because their ancestors were from the Water Tribe, do you?"

Amon frowned touched his temple again, gently applying pressure to sooth the ache in his head. "I'm afraid I cannot take that chance. As it stands, I fear the Revolution will be torn apart by the mad slaughter within it ranks if I consider remaining in Republic City. Unalaq has ensured that if he doesn't succeed in destroying the Revolution, our own chi-blockers will do the work for him."

It was a brilliant move really. If Amon were of any other background, if he hadn't spent the first sixteen years of his life in the Water Tribe, he wouldn't have known the implications of Unalaq's declaration of a Blood War. And if Tarrlok weren't here at this table right now, he wouldn't have known the extent of what he'd need to do to mend the situation. If not for his heritage and his brother, the Revolution would have ended in less than three days.

The Equalist Leader was pulled from his musings when Sato rose to his feet again. The industrialist pounded his fist on the table and waved his arms in the air. "This is ridiculous! We're all equalists here! We're all people of Republic City! We owe our alliance to the United Republic and to this movement! Surely no one could possibly feel any alliance to a crazed, bullying bender like that Northern Chief!"

Amon let out a heavy sigh. "It's easy to say that, but many people in Republic City—benders and non-benders alike—have family in the North or South that will expect them to act." He frowned deeply. "When you think about it, the City is divided into blocks and sectors that are dominated by one nationality or another. Even our criminal elements divide themselves based on the nations they consider their own—earth, water, fire… only the Triple Threats bring all three together. This city may be a place where people of all nations live together, but no one has forgotten their roots."

Tarrlok nodded solemnly. "Even if Republic City was their birthplace, there will always be relatives. It's one thing to betray some portion of immediate family and a government that doesn't appear to represent you to join a terrorist organization," Tarrlok ignored the baleful glared leveled at him from the rest of the table, "but it's another to bring dishonor upon your entire family by failing to bring a man who has slighted your entire national group. Joining the Equalist party is understandable and forgivable, Equalism is 'outside' the Water Tribe. Permitting a dishonor to stand…" He shook his head and fell silent. His eyes closed and his brow furrowed deeply in concentration, as if turning over a thought in his head with great care and consideration.

When he spoke again, it was with renewed strength. "This isn't about bending," the councilman said. "It has nothing to do with bending. Water Tribe is Water Tribe. Earth Kingdom is Earth Kingdom. Fire Nation is Fire Nation. Air Nomad is Air Nomad… or they would be if there were any others left! You can take them from their nations. You can make them live beside one another. They may fall in love and build families together, but if they place any value upon their ancestry, their blood ties, or the honor of their family they will keep their traditions in their hearts.

"Any man or woman of the Water Tribe who holds their ancestors and ancestral homes in any esteem will be expected to kill the person who trespassed against their tribe, even if that person happens to be an esteemed leader. Failure to comply may earn the contempt and scorn of their neighbors. Perhaps those neighbors will raise a knife to those who would dare defy tradition and claim the United Republic. Perhaps the neighbor will spit upon the honor of those who defy tradition before trying to murder the offender themselves.

"Even within this Revolution, I'm sure that your soldiers have already started asking themselves what's more important. Do they value this assembly that claims equality more than they value the struggles of their parents? Is this movement more important than the honor of their ancestors? Does the Revolution supplant the family as being of prime importance?

"Some will probably hold that Equalism is more important, because it considers a 'greater good.' But if there are any here who are here for vengeance, who are here for petty, personal reasons—and I'd wager many are… Well, they won't change their skins overnight. They will do what they have always done, focus on the petty and the personal. And nothing is pettier or more personal than a slight to one's honor."

It was Zhen's turn to glare balefully and stand, "I'm of Water tribe descent and I take pride in that fact!" he snapped. "Do you think I'd turn on Amon and kill him just because some lunatic said I should?!"

Tarlok rolled his eyes. "Well, not everyone in Republic City is as opinionated and free-thinking as you are. Most people don't know what to think, so they look for someone who will tell them what to think. And if a person is charismatic enough, they'll listen."

"I'm sure you have personal experience with that!" Zhen snarled.

Tarrlok shrugged. "Guilty as charged. But I doubt you're the only equalist who chooses their values over their family. I'm sure there are plenty of other exceptions. You just won't be able to tell who they are on sight." The councilman cast a pointed glance at Amon, "It can be hard to see into the hearts of men and women."

Sato looked down his nose at the councilman. "Well, I can think of at least one person whose heart I know. You're a corrupt and vile man."

The room fell silent. Tarrlok stared at Sato quietly. Amon thought he looked hurt by the industrialist's insult. He almost spoke up in defense of his brother…

But then Tarrlok's face contorted, the muscles pulled upwards and the lines of his face curved into the most unpleasant, blatantly insincere smile he could manage. The mood of the room changed drastically.

"You shouldn't be so quick to judge, _Sato_. After all, I could have lied to you. I could have told you that everything would be fine and that we have nothing to fear. I didn't. I told you the truth. Surprising isn't it? _I'm_ clearly of Water Tribe descent." He gestured to his attire and appearance. His long hair, his fancy blue robes with the Water Tribe symbols, his dark skin and dark hair all marked him as a full blooded Water Tribe man. "I was _born_ in the North. I served in the Northern military. I was Unalaq's favorite! And yet I'm here, I'm helping you."

"What other choice did you have?" Zhen asked sharply.

"Well," Tarrlok's insincere smile widened as he lifted the pen he'd been toying with for some time, "I could have taken this pen and stabbed Amon in the face at any time over the past… what? Nine? Ten hours? But I didn't!"

Zhen sneered, "You would have had no one left who was willing to protect you, coward."

Tarrlok fiddled with the pen, "That implies that I'm afraid of death." He let out an unpleasant laugh, "I just have nothing left to lose." He frowned and stared at the wall, or somewhere beyond it.

"My honor is gone," he said. He opened his hands, palm up, in supplication. "My wealth is no longer mine." He turned his eyes to Amon, "I have no family. My friends have already abandoned me. No matter what I do, there can be no forgiveness for me." He chuckled. "I'm not like your water tribe equalists who have so much honor and power to gain from putting an end to Amon. If Amon dies, I die. If Amon lives… well, I might last a little longer."

Sato slammed his hands on the table. "What nonsense!" he roared. He pointed an accusing finger at Tarrlok. "The lieutenant is right! You know nothing about the Revolution you worthless, ex-bending scum! This Revolution is about Equality! We will remove the bending from everyone in the world and then, at last, everyone will be Equal! No bender will sway the men and woman who have joined our forces!"

Tarrlok burst out laughing. "Oh, Sato! I didn't know you were such a blind optimist!" He leaned forward suddenly, his eyes caught the dim lighting of the room and, for a moment, Tarrlok looked like a man possessed by a dark spirit. "I'm _so_ sure that everyone will be _completely equal_ in the new world order! Everyone will be treated exactly the same! There will be no favoritism, no _blatant disregard for the humanity of anyone_ , ever again! I'm sure that there won't be _a single bender left!_ At long last, everyone will be _completely equal_ and no one will ever have to live in fear of a…" he chuckled cruelly, "a _break-in_ , because _seventy-five percent of the population won't be starving in the streets!_ _Crime will just vanish!_ But tell me, _Sato_ , tell me. _Will you still live in that lavish house?_ "

"Councilman Tarrlok…" Amon growled.

The councilman turned his feverishly bright eyes toward the Equalist Leader. "We'll all be good, little non-benders, just like everyone was meant to be! All of us, equal at last! Isn't that right, _Amon?_ "

"Enough!" Sato puffed up his chest and postured. "You know nothing about equalism! We are righteous men!"

Suddenly Tarrlok's ugly, forced smile vanished to be replaced by an ugly sneer and his gaze swung back to Sato. He seemed even more terrifying and unhinged than before. Words began to flow out of his mouth, almost too quickly to make out. "Oh yes, all Equalists are righteous and good men! Men who are deserving of justice and who seek to right all the wrongs in the world! But really, how far does Equalism really go? Do you want to talk about how you treat your workers, Sato? Want to talk about the bribes you passed me to 'look the other way?' Of course _I_ took them, but I'm a corrupt monster and a blood bender— _that's what I am_. But you _offered_ me money first, did you? Want to talk about the protests you shut down? Want to talk about the families you _starved_ to build that beautiful house? I wonder if your daughter would look at you the same way if she knew how many people you destroyed with those long work hours and poor working conditions? Do you want to share the stories about the men who lost limbs in your factories? The people who are bent and broken from those little 'back-end' factories you keep?—Or is it out of sight, out of mind? How about your blatant favoritism toward non-benders that ensures your bending workers are paid less?"

Amon's body slid back into his seat, away from his brother. Tarrlok had never been cruel before. He'd always been sweet, gentle, careful, and compulsively neat and clean. The Equalist Leader felt lost. This disheveled, careless man wasn't the boy that he'd defended all those years ago.

In this moment, Amon didn't recognize his brother.

And he didn't know what to do.

But somehow he knew that this new personality his brother was displaying was his fault.

Zhen leapt to Sato's defense. "Why should we believe these ridiculous lies!" He glared at Tarrlok.

"Lies?" Tarrlok hissed. He turned on Zhen. "Are they lies? Are they all lies Lu Zhen? That's your name right? Lu Zhen? You work in the Republic City archives. I remember you from my visits there. Did you think that I wouldn't notice you?"

Zhen jerked back as though Tarrlok had physically struck him.

"I always wondered what a smart, literate man such as yourself was doing in a low-paying job like that, but it all makes sense now. It's no wonder that you're Amon's favorite. You had access to every single schematic in the city and you brought every single layout you could smuggle out of the archives to him, didn't you? That was how you hid your soldiers and coordinated your attacks so very well. You had access to every single public record in Republic City."

"I did." Zhen's stiffened and his chest swelled with pride. "Is it so surprising that a non-bender could achieve so much?"

"On the contrary, it's astounding that someone with so much potential never thought that he could do better. You'd roll on your back and degrade yourself for a vile, despicable man who used you for his own gain. You're pathetic," Tarrlok sneered.

"How dare you!" Sato roared.

"Tarrlok! Enough!" Amon snapped.

Tarrlok turned back to the Equalist Leader. "Enough? That's a good point! When will it be enough, Amon? At what point will you be satisfied? Tell me, I'm curious! I'd love to know! When you've wiped out bending? When you're running this nation into the ground? When you are the 'King of Republic City' as is your right of birth? When you've spread your ideology into the Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation? When the North and South are corrupt with your ideology? When you wipe out the burgeoning Air Nomad population— _when you finish what Ozai started back in the day_?"

Amon felt fiery fury burn in his veins. His eyes narrowed, his chin dropped, he stood, but his body bent forward over his brother's, his tone dropped and caught in his throat as he growled his brother's name in a voice that sounded nothing like his own, but was terrifyingly familiar.

He couldn't place it until he saw Tarrlok's reaction.

Tarrlok froze, and slid back suddenly, his eyes wide with the fear of someone who knew he'd overstepped his bounds or caused some trifling disappointment. Amon knew that expression, he'd seen it every time his father came after Tarrlok for a failure or a misstep.

His stomach dropped like lead and the air left his lungs.

 _No…_

The crazed light went out of Tarrlok's eyes and his vicious expression morphed back into one of serene calm. "There it is," he said with a slow, empty smile. "I know that face, that expression. How could I ever forget it? Should I tell them how I know it? Should I tell them how I know you?"

Amon's heart thundered in his ears. His felt embarrassed, humiliated, horrified by his actions and appearance in that moment.

Even worse, his brother had caught him.

"What do you think they'll do when I tell them what I know about you?" Tarrlok asked.

They wouldn't believe it. Not at first.

But they would wonder.

They would make connections.

It had been ages since Amon had felt the compulsion to kill Tarrlok. They'd been children and Tarrlok would provoke him as younger brothers were wont to do… He wasn't sure how Tarrlok always knew exactly how to get a rise out of his older brother, but the younger boy always knew just the words to send his big brother into a rage.

He was doing it again. This was exactly what Tarrlok had done when they were children.

Rage mingled with an aching bitterness and melancholy…

 _… it was almost like the good old days…_

Tarrlok surprised his older brother when he chuckled and said, "Don't worry, I won't."

With those few simple words, Amon felt the tension drain from his body. His legs felt unsteady. He sank back into his chair slowly, trying to hide the effects of his emotions.

"I know what you are, Amon, but saying it kills me. When I told the Avatar… it was physically painful explaining it all… the shame and revulsion I feel when I look at you is indescribable. Every single time I so much as I think it, it kills me. I've known who you really are from the moment you took my bending and reduced me to this. I know you. I know what you're about and I can't say that I'm surprised at what you've become."

Tarrlok laughed again, another humorless, painful laugh. "You know, when Avatar Korra confronted me that night in my office, the night I blood bent her and took her hostage, she said something to me that made my blood boil. Imagine my horror at realizing she was right about me. She was right about you as well. Pity she didn't realize how right she was until it was too late. That poor, stupid girl…"

 _Poor, stupid girl, indeed._

Amon picked up his mask and calmly fastened it back on his face. He didn't trust his expression right now. "Enough," he said the word again. This time with calm authority that he didn't feel, "let's finish up and make sure that things go smoothly. We need to move out and implement our plan before Unalaq mobilizes his forces."

Sato and Zhen stared at him quietly. He knew that Tarrlok had forced him to reveal too much. He sensed their confusion and concern. They desperately wanted answers.

He wasn't prepared to give them any.

Zhen broke the growing tension with a change of subject. "What if they don't believe us?"

Amon finished gathering the files in front of him at last and stood to address the group properly. He felt his body unfold into the familiar authoritative and dominant posture he used when he stepped into the role of the Equalist Leader. "We know the radio channels they've been using to catch our broadcasts. We know which ones we've used to send out false information, correct?"

Sato looked at Zhen. Zhen simply nodded.

"Then what Unalaq and the Northern Tribe believe is irrelevant. We simply need to ensure that the other world leaders believe us. As long as we've convinced them of our intentions, we're safe." Amon folded his hands behind his back and felt all his anxiety about his past fade away as he fell entirely into his role. "They will use the information we give them to stop Unalaq."

Sato's eyes widened in surprise, "But surely Unalaq will call off this attack…?"

Amon shook his head. "Unalaq is out for blood. He sent that missive late for a reason. The same reason he made that very public announcement. He wants the Revolution to bleed. He will stop at nothing to wipe Republic City off the map and put an end to the Equalist Revolution. If we don't give the Four Nations the ammunition they need to put a stop to his actions, then he will continue with his plan no matter what we do or say. Once they know what he's up to, they will force him to back down and follow his own laws."

Zhen glanced around the table, as though waiting for someone to say something. No one said a word, so he spoke up, "This is a world leader! You don't really think that he's so immoral do you?"

Amon cast a reluctant glace at Tarrlok. "Care to add a final comment, Tarrlok? You were his favorite, weren't you?"

"Unalaq may seem like a stoic man of a severe and deeply religious predisposition, but he's also the most ruthless, conniving politician I've ever known." The councilman sank deeply into his seat. "He could pass five bribes before breakfast and arrange the execution or the humiliation of a political adversary before lunch. And he never had any problem bending the rules to suite his ends if he thought he could get away with it. And as the chief he got away with it. Often."

Another heavy silence fell on the room as this new, sobering information about the Water Tribe Chief sunk in.

"How did such a man become the leader of an entire nation?" Zhen wondered out loud.

Tarrlok snorted. "He got rid of anyone who stood in his way."

Amon felt Tarrlok's eyes on him as he stood and gathered a few of the files on the table.

"Even his own brother."

[] [] []

Korra woke to the soft clatter of a tray being carefully set down and shoved into her cell through a small slot at the base of the bars. She groaned irritably, before she forced herself to sit up. She cast a glance toward the tiny window of her cell. It served the purpose of letting in a little natural light and some fresh air.

As she suspected, it was still dark outside. She didn't know what time it was exactly, but she knew that it was too early for breakfast…

 _Chi-blockers were always too early with breakfast. And they always took it away an hour after they'd put it out, so she only had one hour before dawn to eat food._

Didn't they know how to get up at a decent hour? Or was Amon against sleeping like a normal person too? Well, she knew better! Even if she had to get up and eat breakfast at this unnatural hour, she had every intention of getting back in bed when she was done eating and sleeping until the sun was up.

Korra sat up and glared at the chi-blocker who'd delivered her meal. It was one of Korra's new guards, one of the girls who never said anything to her and couldn't even be bothered to insult the young, ex-avatar out loud. The young prisoner found them rather impressive, no matter what she said or did she got no reaction at all.

They made Korra miss her previous guards. At least they'd come in and verbally berate her for existing. When those jerks had come in to yell at her, she'd felt a little vindicated. It'd been a small reminder that her existence was important to someone. These new guards didn't even look at her.

The ex-Avatar sat up slowly and took her time stretching out her arms and legs, giving the guard ample opportunity to wander off before she even got near the food. She wasn't in the mood to be ignored right now, so she wanted the Equalist to leave before she went for breakfast. But the woman made no move to leave. She remained seated in front of the food tray even as Korra swung her legs over the edge of her bunk and made her way over to take her meal.

Korra knelt before the tray and studied the female chi-blocker across from her quietly. The woman didn't move. The guard simply sat before the cell bars, perfectly still, like a statue of an ancient water tribe warrior with both of her knees pressed to the ground, her feet sharply flexed so that her toes lifted her heels, her back ram-rod straight, and her hands fisted upon her thighs.

The young ex-Avatar couldn't help but admire the woman's discipline. She knew exactly how hard it was to hold that pose, having been made to sit in it every time she got a little too rambunctious—it was probably one of the reasons she hated meditating so much. Sitting still had always been a punishment for her.

Korra opened her mouth to ask the woman what she was doing, but she decided against it. She wouldn't get a response, so what was the point? Instead she looked down at the tray of food before her. Her eyebrows rose in surprise. It was a traditional water tribe breakfast with salted mackerel, fish soup, and seaweed bread. This was a vast improvement on her previous breakfasts, which had been nothing more than a bowl of rice-water gruel.

She looked at the woman who knelt before her in surprise and confusion. She'd done nothing to earn better treatment. So why was she getting it? Did they want something from her? If so, what did they want?

Should she give in to their demands?

She searched the chi-blocker's face. There wasn't much to see. The cloth mask that covered the woman's entire face and thick green goggles caught the light and hid the woman's eyes, ensuring that the woman gave nothing away.

Korra frowned and sighed in frustration. She reached up and pushed her long hair back. A wave of anger rushed through her as she felt the long curling locks of dark hair twist between her fingers. She remembered her meltdown yesterday about Amon and everything he'd taken from her… would take from her. She'd been hurt and upset at the time, but now she was pissed. Those ornaments had kept her stupid mess of brown hair out of her face. Couldn't he have taken something less useful?

Her stupid hair got everywhere.

"Is it true?"

Korra snapped to attention, yanking her hand out of her hair and thrusting it back into her lap. She felt like she was twelve again and she'd just been caught day-dreaming about adventures rather than paying attention to her lessons 'like a good Avatar.' Without thinking of where she was or even who she was talking to, she stammered out, "I-is what true?" For a passing moment, she imagined that her old history teacher was standing in front of her glaring down at her with a look of intense disapproval.

The sight of the chi-blocker seated where her teacher would have stood brought her back to her current situation. Korra hunched her shoulders and ducked her head a little. Her discomfort intensified. Her current guards went out of their way to avoid acknowledging her existence. The ex-Avatar couldn't help but wonder what she'd done to earn this guard's attention.

… but then a few of the guards had started staring at her last night. And she'd heard whispering…

Augh! She was too hungry for these mind games! She'd been thinking too much lately! She'd barely slept, because she'd been thinking so much! It was so annoying!

She reached down and picked up the chopsticks so that she could start shoveling food into her mouth. She needed to keep her strength up so she could come up with a plan. That's what Aang would do, right?

"Are you really a Water Tribe noblewoman?"

Korra's eyes widened in surprise and confusion. She nearly choked on a mouthful of food as she stared at the woman across from her in shock. She swallowed everything down in one big gulp and coughed for a few minutes after.

"What?" She couldn't believe that someone had just asked her if she were a noblewoman. That was the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard and she rushed to correct the woman. Her hands shot up and she waved them back and forth in denial as she shook her head. "No! No! No! Of course not! I'm just the Avatar! I mean… I was the Avatar…" she winced and turned away sharply. "Ex-Avatar," she reminded herself dejectedly. "I'm the ex-Avatar."

With that simple admission she felt all the hunger leave her as an unpleasant taste filled her mouth. A bone-deep weariness settled in her body. She considered returning to her uncomfortable wooden bed.

"No one cares about that!" the guard snapped. "Are you saying it's some kind of lie!? You're not Unalaq's niece!?" She demanded sharply.

Korra blinked at the chi-blocker in confusion. "What? Uncle Unalaq? What does he have to do with anything?" She asked.

The chi-blocker tilted her head forward, moving for the first time since Korra'd laid eyes on her. The ex-Avatar could just make out sharp, narrow eyes that glared at her through the green material of the goggles. "Then he _is_ your uncle?"

"Yeah. He's my uncle. So what?" Korra shrugged. What did this have to do with anything?

But the new angle of the guard's head meant that Korra could see the woman's expression. Her eyes darted back and forth, as though she were reading a really intense passage from one of Jinora's books. The ex-Avatar could feel the tension rolling off the woman. She heard the creak of soft leather as the guard's hands clenched tightly.

Suddenly the guard's entire upper body dropped to the floor, her hands folded in front of her in a gesture of supplication that Korra had only seen in old books. The guard spoke quickly and sharply as she said, "I apologize profusely for what has happened to you, Lady Korra! As a daughter of the north, I…" the woman choked and her voice cracked, "I have let an outsider lead me to permit your defilement at his hands! There is no punishment great enough for a blind fool such as myself! I have dishonored my noble family! I have dishonored my noble blood! I have dishonored my Tribe! I am unworthy to call myself a daughter of the North!"

"What? No!"

The woman looked up sharply. "You… do not accept my apology?"

"No! I'm…" Korra took a deep breath to gather her thoughts and said, "It's not that I don't accept your apology, I just don't see what you need apologize for!"

The woman stared at her silently, but the lighting prevented Korra from seeing the woman's expression.

"You… don't…?" The woman faltered for a moment, floundering. "You are a daughter of the North. You are Unalaq's niece. You have been dishonored and defiled. I allowed this to happen to you. I must take responsibility."

"But it's not _your_ fault this happened to me! Besides, I'm not the Avatar anymore, so…" Korra swallowed sharply as her throat constricted. She looked away again, "look, it doesn't matter what happens to me anymore. So there's nothing to apologize for, alright?" The admission brought tears to her eyes.

"What are you talking about!?" The woman snapped. "Of course what happens to you matters! You're Unalaq's niece! You're a member of the royal family! Your honor-!"

"I'm not the Avatar anymore!" Korra shouted. "I'm nothing! I'm no one! I don't matter at all!" She felt hot tears course down her face. "I…" She choked on sob. "I'm nothing. You… you don't need to apologize to me, I'm nothing. You may as well just… forget I exist!"

A heavy silence fell between them. Slowly the soft, quiet sounds of the cellblock began to fill the void that stretched between the two women.

The guard spoke again. "You are still Unalaq's niece. And as your family has defended and honored the spirits for a thousand years, my family has defended and honored yours…" Her voice quivered with an emotion that Korra couldn't identify.

Korra looked up in confusion. "What?" She'd never heard anything about anyone protecting anyone's honor.

"I…" the woman's head dipped suddenly and she said, "forgive me for overstepping my bounds lady, we have only just become acquainted, but I must ask…" Korra heard the soft click of the woman's throat as she swallowed sharply. "How can you…?" the guard's voice faltered again, her body shuddered with the intensity of the emotion she felt, she tried again, "Do you really believe that all non-benders are without any worth?"

Korra's mouth fell open in surprise. "What?" She reached up and rubbed away her tears with the back of her arm. "I never said that! I mean, I did say that bending is amazing to those equalists back then, but… it's not like you guys aren't also amazing!"

The woman jerked to stare at her and Korra could just make out a pair of sharp, angular eyes that had become wide with confusion.

"I mean; you guys are amazing! You do all sorts of cool and awesome things and you don't have to use bending at all! My mom and Asami and Pema and even Bumi are non-benders and they're some of the strongest, toughest people I know! They're surrounded by powerful benders and they don't take nonsense from any of them! Ever! Mom's really tough! She puts my dad in his place and he's one of the strongest water benders I've ever known! Asami's the strongest, smartest, most beautiful person I've ever met! Pema can talk down Tenzin from just about anything and she can cut him down just as easily! And Bumi? Nothing ever stopped him! You non-benders can do anything, even without bending! I can't even imagine that!" Korra stopped suddenly as her mind made a series of connections she'd never considered before…

"I… I guess I never really thought that some non-benders might not be tough, or that they might be scared, because all the non-benders I knew were never scared of any benders. They were never, ever afraid of talking back to the strongest benders I knew or even putting those powerful people in their place. And they never needed bending to do anything they wanted to do…" Korra's brow furrowed as she kept talking, "Even when mom could barely walk and Pema was pregnant they were still so strong and brave…"

She looked up at the woman across from her suddenly. "You can do so much without ever needing to rely on a single element. Why would you be afraid of anything?"

The guard returned the ex-Avatar's steady gaze and said, "You never had any idea what was happening here, did you?"

"O-of course I did! You guys were revolting against benders for some reason, because…" Korra faltered and winced. She really didn't have any idea of what had been happening in Republic City. "The triads were bad?" She offered.

"The council has no non-benders on it. The police are all metal-benders. We are terrorized and bullied by bending criminals. We struggle to work and live in the United Republic. Our opportunities are limited and at times blocked by the powerful elites."

Korra stared at the woman on the other side of the bars. "Oh." She didn't know what to say, so she said, "I didn't know." She immediately flushed with embarrassment. It seemed like the dumbest thing to say to the woman opposite her. She hunched over, feeling deeply and thoroughly ashamed of herself. "No one told me any of that." But she should have known. Somehow she should have known all about it.

She really was the worst Avatar.

The guard did not show a single ounce of sympathy. "So, that's how you feel about non-benders?" The woman asked angrily. "How can you say that you're nothing without your bending if the strongest people you knew were non-benders? How can you really believe that you have nothing unless you believe that non-benders are nothing?!" The woman demanded.

Korra looked down at her hands. "I don't know. I guess, it's just that non-benders have always been non-benders, so they know how to live without bending. I'm the Avatar. I've been the Avatar for almost as long as I can remember. I was raised to be the Avatar. I've been able to bend three elements since I was a little kid." Her chest felt heavy, like a great weight had settled on her heart. "Being the Avatar was all I ever knew. It was all anyone expected of me. It was all anyone wanted from me. I don't know how to be anything else. Everyone always said that the Avatar was the most powerful and important person because they could bend four elements. Now I can't bend anything at all. So, I'm less than a non-bender. I'm useless. No one wants a broken Avatar."

Korra waited for the reprimand or condemnation for her foolishness. The sort of thing that usually followed bouts of introspection or comments about her perceived worth. None came. She looked up to find the woman staring at her silently through green goggles.

The woman seemed to be staring at Korra very thoughtfully. Finally, she spoke, "If you were so ignorant, then you should have spoken with someone. You are the Avatar. People look to you and your behavior sets a standard. People suffered because of your ignorance and because you chose to support the people who keep us down."

Korra flinched at the harsh words. She hung her head, ashamed. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize…" she stopped herself, "you're right. That's no excuse. I should have…" she closed her eyes and tried to think of what she should have done differently. After some thought, she said, "I should have stopped, and listened, and… made more of an effort to get away from Tenzin and the guards and… I should have been more responsible, but it was the first time-!"

She felt a hot tear course down her cheek. "I'd never left the compound before—not since I was ten. No one told me anything about what things were like. I just wanted to have fun!" She swallowed sharply and looked up to meet the equalist's eyes and continued, "But you're right. I should have stopped, I should have asked questions, I should have listened."

For a moment, Korra thought that she saw something akin to understanding in the woman's eyes.

Then the guard turned away sharply, averting her gaze and hunching her shoulders, as though she were ashamed. After a moment, she spoke again. Her voice sounded softer and there was a quiver there that Korra hadn't heard before. "There are things we didn't know either."

The ex-Avatar's mouth curved into a warm, tearful smile. She swiped away her tears with the back of her arm and said, "No one's perfect, and you can't know things if you don't talk to people right? I mean, when I first came to Republic City, I didn't know anything! I didn't even know what yuans were!"

The woman looked up at her, shocked, but Korra kept talking.

"Now that I'm talking to you, I know more than I ever did before! I mean, I learned so much just by coming here! I finally made friends who were my age and the guards even let me walk around on my own and talk to people!" She laughed lightly, even as the weight in her chest became heavier.

After her laughter faded, she said, "I wish I'd met someone like you before things reached this point. I wish someone could have… explained things to me… I don't know if I would have listened. I've been told so many times that I'm a terrible listener." Korra felt her eyes begin to tear up again. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that I wish someone had told me something about all this back when I could do something about it." More tears traced down her cheeks. She scrubbed them away with the back of her hand and sniffled a bit.

She was ashamed that she was crying. She'd been crying a lot lately. But she couldn't quite seem to stop the tears from pouring down her face.

"Why didn't you say anything about your uncle?" The woman asked.

Korra shrugged and looked at the guard again. "Being the Avatar was the only reason I ever mattered to anyone. Why would anyone care who my uncle is? He's just uncle Unalaq."

The guard sighed heavily and Korra could see the woman's brow furrowing behind the mask. "You really don't know anything about what's happening, do you?"

Korra shook her head, "I know a little. I know that equalists have taken Republic City. That's why you're celebrating, right?"

The woman shook her head. "I was talking about the ultimatum."

Korra's brow furrowed in confusion. "What's happening?"

The door to the cell block swung open abruptly. A tall, broad woman stood in the doorway. "Aklaq!" the woman bellowed. "Orders from the top! You're dismissed from duty for the next week or so!"

The guard, Aklaq, moved to stand, but paused before rising to her feet. She looked at Korra and said in a soft, but clear voice, "I apologize, Lady Korra. I should have never let an outsider lead me to believe that Equality is more important than family. I have permitted my selfish desires and jealousy to come between my heart and my homeland." She nodded and said, "I will earn your forgiveness for my family and for the Equalist Revolution with my own hands. And if I can, I will help you learn about the world in the future, so that you cannot be used by those who would take advantage of you."

Korra watched as the woman stood fully and turned to make her way to the door. Something big was happening out there and that woman was about to do something really, really stupid! And if she died, Korra would feel very responsible.

"Wait!" Korra rose to her feet, stepped lightly around her breakfast, and grabbed the bars.

Aklaq stopped before the door and turned to look back at Korra.

"I forgive you! I don't know why you need my forgiveness," the ex-Avatar couldn't keep the self-deprecating smile off her face, "but I'm pretty sure you never did anything to hurt me! I hope I'll get to see you again sometime soon!"

Aklaq stared at her for a moment, before she turned away and disappeared behind the door.

Korra slowly sank down to her knees and rested her head on the bars. She stared at the floor of the cell block for a moment as she tried to make sense of the conversation. In the end, she realized that trying to think on an empty stomach was pointless, so she turned to her breakfast and took a few bites. She swallowed with some difficulty, the bitter taste in her mouth lingered.

[] [] []

Yun chewed her lower lip as she wandered down the dark corridor. After her horrible, terrible, awful, mistake of handing a hugely important message to a very drunk Sato she'd been put on probation. But she was back because the movement was short-staffed and every Equalist who wasn't of water tribe descent needed to be ready to go...

Right now she was trying to avoid her superior officers, who were very angry at her for getting them in trouble. Her immediate superior had been looking downright murderous as soon as he'd seen her the other day. And she suspected she'd be on janitorial duty for weeks after this...

Also, she didn't recognize this corridor and she strongly suspected that she'd gotten lost. And that made her nervous. The last time she'd gotten lost in the base she'd gotten into so much trouble!

Jeez! Being an Equalist was almost as bad as being at home right now...

... well... no. Nothing was as bad as home. Nothing would ever be as bad as home. _Home was awful..._

A powerful, menacing voice broke her train of thought. "You."

Yun froze. Her shoulders hunched, her head dropped a little in fear, and she let out a tiny whimper.

Oh no. She'd been caught. This was it!-garbage and bathroom cleaning duty forever. She'd never smell nice again and she wouldn't be allowed into the chi-blocking training sessions!

She turned around slowly and prepared herself for the scolding of a lifetime.

The sight that greeted her made her eyes grow wide and caused the air to leave her lungs in soft gasp of awe.

He was tall, strong, powerful, his attire was impeccable, his mask was polished, and at nearly eight-thirty am he looked to be in rare form.

It was Amon.

 _Omispirits! It was Amon!_

Amon was talking to her. Again. The last time this had happened he'd given her the best assignment ever-she'd even been able to make a new friend! Aklaq was the coolest Equalist she'd ever met! And she'd helped to bathe the Avatar!-it was such a privilege and an honor!

Now he was talking to her again, ohmispirits! What should she do?!

Was he going to ask her to do something amazing and exciting and super-important again?

Did he think that she was worthy of the Equalist cause in spite of her mistake?

Had he heard about her role in the Sato incident?

Would he reprimand her?

 _WHAT SHOULD SHE DO?!_

"Are you listening to me?" he asked in his powerful, charismatic, soulful voice.

"Ah!" she squeaked and bowed, "Yes sir, Amon sir! Um... your esteemed, noble, and awesome spiritual-ness, Amon. Sir."

What should she call him!? He was so important and so amazing! What was she supposed to call him!?

His head tilted every so slightly to one side and she could just barely see his eyes narrowing... she was familiar with the expression. That was how most people looked at her-like she was a weirdo... a freak... a waste of time, breath, and space.

Yun sucked in a quick, terrified breath, and clenched her fists. She had no right to be wasting the Esteemed, Noble, and Awesome Mr Amon's time. She needed to rectify this situation immediately.

"What can I do for you, sir?" she asked in a tiny, terrified whisper.

Amon twitched, as if he were coming out of a trance, and reached into a pocket. He produced a key. "I want you to go down to the lower levels and find the lieutenant. He's in storage room oh-eighty-four, sector six."

Yun nodded. "O-Okay."

"Tell him I need to speak with him urgently. He must bring the files we discussed earlier." Amon offered the key to her. "Remind him to lock the door behind him. And tell him the councilman can stay where he is for now."

She dutifully took the key, nodding vigorously as she did so. "Yessir. Absolutely, sir!" She saluted him like a good Equalist.

Amon shook his head at her and walked past her to continue down the corridor. Yun turned to watch him stride along. He looked so powerful, so majestic...

 _...so sexy..._

She blushed hotly at the direction of her thoughts and shook her head quickly. It was no good having inappropriate thoughts about one's superior officer. Especially one who was as awesome and amazing as Mr. Amon. A little nobody from a nobody merchant family in Terra Triad territory had no place mooning over a man like him.

She looked down at the key in her hand. It was a small, broze piece that glinted the promise of glory and redemption. She sucked in a deep breath. This was a really, really important mission.

She had to get it right!

"Okay... fetch the lieutenant. He's in storage room oh-eighty-four, sector six. Tell him that he has to go and see Amon immediately. With the files. Remind him to lock the door. Councilman stays where he is." She nodded uncertainly at the key. "I think I've got it..."

She shoved the key resolutely in her pocket.

Yun sucked in a deeper breath. "I guess I better get going!" She said. And with that, she set off down the tunnels-muttering her instructions under her breath the whole way...

[] [] []

Amon excused himself around five-thirty am. He had business to attend to. Sato followed the Equalist Leader out, muttering about getting some rest before drafting more war machines in his workshop. The lieutenant, Lu Zhen, remained behind to finish editing a few files and to keep an eye on the ex-bender, Councilman Tarrlok.

Zhen hadn't volunteered to stay behind. Amon had asked him to keep an eye on the conniving politician. The Equalist Leader had told his lieutenant that he trusted him to keep a clear head in the presence of the vile man. Zhen, flattered, had quickly agreed to the task, but now that he was stuck in the dim, remote room with the ex-blood bender, he regretted his enthusiasm.

As soon the lieutenant was alone with the broken politician, he'd moved his chair. He situated himself so that he sat opposite the councilman. He wanted the table between them so that the solid wooden surface could be used as a barrier or shield if the ex-bender turned violent. But what had seemed like a solid strategic move had an unfortunate consequence…

Whenever Zhen looked up from his work, he found himself looking at the councilman's static, emotionless face.

In the past, the lieutenant had hated the sight of the councilman's face, because the man had always worn a look of smug superiority. Now, the sight of Tarrlok's face made him uncomfortable, because it was so empty. It was as though some vital spark within the despicable politician had been dimmed to the point of extinction. He appeared lifeless, and it was only the steady rise and fall of his chest that suggested the man was still alive.

So, Zhen did his best to keep his eyes on his work, but with every passing moment it became more difficult to attend to the stack of files in front of him. After working an extra three hours on the files, he was exhausted and progressively losing his ability to focus. Worse still, the batteries in the Future Industries lanterns were on their last legs. There was probably less than an hour's worth of energy left in them. The light flickered with increasing regularity, throwing strange and ominous shadows on the walls.

As the darkness drew closer and the light dimmed, Zhen found his eyes growing weary and his mind wandering. He pondered the silent man across from him and bit by bit the events of the earlier meeting began to weigh on his mind. The interaction between Amon and Tarrlok troubled him and he found himself mentally reviewing every interaction he'd witnessed between the two men…

He decided then and there that he was finished with the files. There was nothing more he could do in these horrible conditions. He'd deliver them to Amon and hope for the best. His eyes were tired from strain and his mind, exhausted from stress and the sleepless night, could no longer focus on the content in front of him. His mind was swimming with questions and suppositions about his superior officer and the politician seated in front of him…

It was driving him crazy.

He needed a break.

He sat back in his chair and stretched; lifting his arm overhead, arching his back, and letting his head fall back. His long fingers folded together as he turned his palms upward to pull the kinks out of arms and relieve his aching back. His eyes slipped closed and he groaned in pleasure.

As he slowly settled back into his seat, he smiled and sighed. His head felt clear again.

But as soon as he opened his eyes, he found himself staring at Tarrlok. The councilman hadn't moved an inch in all the time they'd been sitting alone in the room. The politician slouched in his chair, his empty, soulless eyes were focused on a point somewhat above and to the left of the lieutenant. His long, straight hair and fallen down to hang around his long, angular face and his fancy clothes were rumpled and unkempt. He looked worn down and tired, but it was possibly a trick of the light. The long, deep shadows in the room settled along the countless lines of the face, exaggerating and warping features.

Even the handsomest man could appear haggard and hideous in this light.

Now that Zhen was looking at the councilman, he found that he couldn't tear his eyes away and the cruel thoughts that tormented him roared to the forefront of his mind. His jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed into hateful slits. Jealousy, contemptible and poisonous, gnawed at his insides.

He drew in a deep, unsteady breath and pushed himself to his feet. He began to gather up the remaining files on the table, moving slowly and methodically as he struggled to keep his mind on the task before him…

But his tired brain would not let him forget what he'd seen.

He could not deny what he had witnessed, could he? Amon and Tarrlok had shared a moment during the meeting and, in watching their interactions, Zhen could only come to one conclusion: they had a history. A history that was old and complex and bitter. And the Lieutenant was certain that whatever feelings had existed between the two men were still there, just beneath the surface.

He wanted to pretend that it wasn't true, but how could it be anything but? He'd never seen anyone toy with Amon before. He hadn't believed it was possible. Tarrlok, however, had seemed to know exactly how to provoke the Equalist Leader. And all throughout the meeting the two men had shared looks…

Zhen had seen warmth and concern in his superior's eyes when he'd looked at the vile councilman. There had been real warmth and concern in his expression. At times the lieutenant had believed that his commander was simply searching for the right words to say to ease Tarrlok's suffering.

 _Ease Tarrlok's suffering!?_

Against his better judgement, Zhen cast a glance at Tarrlok. He nearly jumped when he saw that the ex-blood bender's eyes were on him.

Zhen met the councilman's cold, empty eyes with a stony, angry leer. Tarrlok simply raised a brow and tilted his head slightly as if to ask, 'yes, and?'

The lieutenant turned away sharply and continued gathering papers from the table. His lips pulled into a thin, hard line and he frowned.

Why did Amon care about this wretched excuse for a human being!? Why had the Equalist Leader seemed so contrite after he'd finally snapped at Tarrlok—after the councilman had baited him no less?

Zhen's fingers gently caressed the paper in front of him. He froze as his mind replayed the entire conflict.

… when that terrible confrontation had occurred…

…the way they'd looked at each other…

It was as though there was a terrible open wound, festering between them…

But why had Amon seemed so eager to heal the injury and Tarrlok so quick to seemingly reject every overture?—as if the very thought of trying to right the wrong was abhorrent to him!? As if the councilman had been the injured party!?

And how dare Tarrlok refuse Amon's efforts to make amends? It was astounding to think the Equalist Leader would ever even ask a blood bender—even a former one—for forgiveness!

And what was the councilman's problem? Was the grievance, the trespass, so completely vile and despicable that no amount of kindness or undeserved compassion could possibly earn the politician's forgiveness!? Whatever had happened, the politician probably deserved it!

Nevertheless, the lieutenant ground his teeth. How _dare_ that man reject Amon's good will!?

The Equalist leader did not give his trust, his kindness… his forgiveness lightly. Watching his commander's attempts at reconciliation so viciously and coldly trod upon stung! Especially when such benevolence was offered to someone so vile and undeserving!

 _…especially when it was not given half so easily to Amon's most loyal followers…_

Zhen flipped a file closed with far more force than necessary and slammed it down on top of the stack he was assembling. He immediately reached for the next one, unaware of how violent his movements had become.

There was a soft "ahem," from the man across from him.

Zhen looked up sharply. His eyes met the curious gaze of the councilman, now seated comfortably across from him.

The two men stared each other down.

This man, this vile, ex-bender, had provoked such powerful and extraordinary reactions from the Equalist Leader. He'd known just what to say and how to say it… He'd made Amon into his puppet with just a few words…

Zhen bristled in umbrage at the memory of the interaction. His eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched, and his nostrils flared as he fumed.

What right did a filthy blood bender have to know the great, just, and formidable Amon so well?

What had occurred between the two men in the past that led Amon to treat Tarrlok with so much care and… affection?

What led the arrogant councilman to harbor such cold and completely underserved resentment for the man under the mask?

Zhen picked up a few more files, but his movements slowed as he silently considered the man who was seated across from him.

 _How could two men who were so different, whose lives were so divergent, share such an intimate knowledge of each other?_

And then the most abhorrent question popped into Zhen's head…

 _Could Amon and Tarrlok have been lovers?_

The very thought of the possibility made Zhen's flesh crawl and his head spin, but he couldn't stop himself from wondering if… once… long ago… Amon had loved this vile, proud, and ruthless bender…

The lieutenant couldn't believe he was pondering such blasphemous, traitorous things! It was unthinkable! Amon and Tarrlok!? Lovers? It was ridiculous!

And yet it seemed to explain so much!

But an even worse thought followed on the tail of the first…

 _What if Amon still loved Tarrlok?_

For a brief moment, Zhen thought that the room was spinning around him. He clutched at the table for support as he contemplated the terrible, horrible possibility.

But as Zhen thought back, he couldn't help but feel like everything added up…

The familiar way that Amon and Tarrlok spoke to each other… The way that the Equalist Leader had defaulted to the councilman's opinions and expertise… The fact that the masked man trusted the vile politician and took him at his word—as if Tarrlok weren't a lying, scheming, evil bully of a bender!

But the councilman's behavior had to be considered as well, and Tarrlok had been completely compliant… even helpful throughout this fiasco. Whatever Amon asked, the councilman did without question or struggle. Yes, he was surly about it, but he didn't complain or resist at all. There hadn't been a single escape attempt or rebellion since he'd left his cell…

… Except when Sato had called the politician a corrupt and evil man… But even then, Tarrlok had made no move to physically attack his captors… Instead he'd simply said horrible things about them…

Right up until he pushed Amon too far…

But none of it made any sense to the lieutenant. The councilman had said nothing that, on the surface, seemed particularly inflammatory, but the way Amon had reacted to the politician's words… It was like Tarrlok had spoken in some sort of code.

With just a few words the ex-blood bender transformed Amon into a stranger, a terrifying figure that Zhen did not recognize and would never have recognized as his esteemed commander.

But Tarrlok had known the man that Amon had become. There was something in the way he cowered and in the way he smiled as soon as Amon's expression turned to horror—like he'd just seen an old friend after a long absence… He'd known that the Equalist Leader had that horrible persona in him. He'd known how to draw it out…

 _He knew Amon so well…_

 _… and Amon knew Tarrlok._

They had to have been lovers.

Nothing else explained the intimacy that existed between the two men.

The thought made Zhen's blood boil. A muscle in his face, just beneath his right eye, twitched as his mind began wonder how close the two men had been. Just how far had this relationship progressed?

Had they embraced? Shared a few passionate kisses…?

 _Oh, it had to have gone much further than that. This was Amon after all!_

The lieutenant's face flushed and bile rose in his throat.

They had to have been intimate. They'd probably shared a bed… probably regularly… They'd probably lived under the same roof for months!

Tarrlok probably knew every intimate detail about Amon's personal life and preferences…

Zhen's grip on the files in his hand tightened as his mind conjured images of the intimacies the two men had very likely shared. Tender moments, affectionate touches, soft smiles, laughter… all the things that the lieutenant had longed to share with his commander for years.

He'd always felt that to some degree Amon had shared that desire for a deeper relationship between them. The thought of the Equalist Leader sharing those quiet, private moments with another… _with Councilman Tarrlok!..._

It hurt.

It hurt so badly.

Amon had probably fallen prey to Tarrlok's striking, Northern looks and wicked charms. He'd probably doted on the blood bender and adored the other man… But Zhen couldn't imagine Tarrlok reciprocating Amon's feelings. How could a man as vain and hateful as the ambitious blood bender possibly love the scarred visage of the Equalist Leader?

Or could it be that Tarrlok was the reason that Amon hid his face behind a mask and resisted every overture of a real and lasting connection?

Zhen stared down at the files in his hand and forced himself to stop squeezing them so hard. He took a few deep breaths and tried to reign in his imagination.

The lieutenant began to carefully adjust the files and papers to make sure they were all facing the same direction as he reassured himself that there was no way that Amon could ever wrong a blood bender! Perhaps he'd briefly loved Tarrlok, perhaps he still felt a lingering connection to the evil man, but Amon couldn't possibly have wronged the politician.

No, Tarrlok was a manipulative abuser. Whatever had happened between the two men… the councilman had to be the one who was in the wrong. Or if Amon had wronged the councilman, it was probably something pathetic and mundane. The politician was notoriously petty after all…

And really, it was completely unthinkable that someone as noble and good could love a man as terrible as the ex-blood bender.

Perhaps Tarrlok had once saved Amon's life and asked Amon to fulfill his obligations with a deep and personal favor? Perhaps, due to extenuating circumstances, Amon had failed to live up to his side of the bargain? A man with Amon's sense of honor would feel deeply responsible if such a debt existed and went unpaid.

Maybe they'd been friends once and Amon had accidently caused harm to someone in Tarrlok's family?

Really, his exhaustion was getting ahead of him. All those little moments during the meeting were probably nothing. Just his over-active imagination! It was much more likely that it was an unfulfilled debt or a matter of honor.

Amon was just trying to restore his honor, protect his followers.

But now that he thought about it…

Zhen could recall times when the Equalists had pushed Amon to make an example of Tarrlok. The Equalist Leader had resisted his subordinates' pleading. He'd insisted that there were other, better targets. When the Equalists had demanded that the northern councilman be forcibly removed from power and laid low, the masked commander had turned their attention to other proud and ruthless benders. There were countless other instances when the Equalists had spoken out against the politician and his vicious tactics, and yet Amon had dismissed every attempt to prioritize the removal of the vile councilor and his bending. Instead, the Equalist Leader had targeted other men and women in Tarrok's place…

Zhen froze. His eyes widened sharply. He stared at the files in his hand in shock.

 _… he'd been protecting him._

By the spirits, Amon had been protecting that vile and ruthless man all this time!

What had happened between them to cause Amon to pursue such outrageous and blind efforts to protect that vile monster?

Zhen's eyes slid closed as he thought back to the exchange he'd witnessed earlier. Tarrlok had gone after each of them in turn, exposing how much he knew and twisting the truth to suite his ends. What he'd said about Sato had been shocking, horrible, and clearly malicious slander.

The councilman had turned on Zhen once he was done with Sato. The lieutenant had been surprised when Tarrlok had chewed him out for not having ambition. Of all the wicked things that the Equalist had expected to have thrown in his face, his loyalty to the revolution was not one of them.

In the end, Zhen had chalked Tarrlok's view of his choices up to a natural difference between the them. After all, the councilman was evil and selfish. How could he possibly understand the nobility and good inherent in the Revolution? Did he really expect the lieutenant to be ashamed of his choice in supporting the greater good?

But then Tarrlok had turned on Amon and his demeanor had changed drastically.

The councilman had been cruel when he'd addressed the industrialist and the lieutenant, but his expression had been akin to that of a wounded animal striking out at its attackers. Zhen found himself viewing Tarrlok's words as a last, desperate assault against his enemies. But when he'd gone after Amon, he'd looked less like a wounded dog and more like a rabid one.

The lieutenant still couldn't quite make sense of the councilman's words. The politician had asked Amon when he would be 'satisfied'—as though Amon were insatiable. But the Equalist Leader was hardly a demanding man. Zhen had been with his commander long enough to know that he was reasonable and asked for very little for himself. His greatest demands were reserved for society at large, and they were simple enough.

All Amon wanted was a world where everyone could live without fear of violence, oppression, and persecution. An equal, fair world, where there were no benders to terrorize the non-bending populace.

How could it be wrong to make such demands, when they were in the hearts and minds of so many people? Was it evil of him to seek to spread this great and noble dream to other nations? Was it so wrong to mandate that all places in the world become safe for all people?

Tarrlok had rattled on, calling Amon the 'rightful King of Republic City,' but that was ridiculous. Republic City had never had a King. Unless the Equalist Leader was secretly related to an ancient, noble lineage in the Earth Kingdom there was no reason for the politician to call him a 'king.'

Zhen paused in the midst of his paper shuffling.

And yet Tarrlok knew so much about them all…

Was it possible that Amon was… a prince?

He considered it for a moment, and then rejected the idea as he continued to shuffle the files into a new order.

Seeing Amon's reaction to Tarrlok's terror had given Zhen pause, and he couldn't help but hesitate as he recalled the expression on his commander's face. For a moment the normally powerful, unflappable, and formidable man had been shaken. He'd looked vulnerable and afraid, like a child who'd just been caught doing something wrong…

A chill ran down the lieutenant's spine. He cast another cautious glance across the table at the man who remained in his seat, still cast in shadows. Whatever Tarrlok knew, whatever secret he kept… Amon feared its revelation.

For the life of him, Zhen could not understand why. _What could his commander possibly need to hide from his followers? What secret could be so dark and dire?_

His eyes narrowed sharply as a new question occurred to him.

 _Why spare the secret keeper?_

He studied the councilman pensively. His brow furrowed and pinched his lips into a thin line.

Why would Tarrlok willingly agree to keep Amon's secret? After all that, the politician said that he would not share the information. But why? The councilman seemed to have so much power over the masked commander. Why would the politician bury this truth when they both seemed to know that it could destroy the Equalist Leader by the hands of his followers?

 _Did he hope to use this great and terrible secret as leverage?_

If so, he was a fool. No matter what sentiment lingered between them, Zhen was certain that Amon would not protect Tarrlok forever. After all, no man willingly protected his blackmailer. He couldn't imagine anyone's passions running so deep as to cause a lasting affection between two enemies… Amon's marriage to the Avatar was going to be quite an interesting farce for that very reason…

 _The Avatar._

Zhen's eyes widened and he sucked in a breath..

The day that she'd been publically humiliated she'd made a grand stand of announcing that she knew the truth about Amon. The lieutenant had dismissed her words outright, but now he wasn't so sure.

He blinked rapidly as he struggled to remember exactly what she'd said, but the words weren't coming. He frowned. She'd mentioned a secret, though…

 _A secret…_

The air left him and a terrible chill settled into his bones.

 _The Avatar knew._

Tarrlok and the Avatar had been sharing a cellblock. Had he…?

 _He'd told her Amon's secret._

 _He'd shared the Equalist Leader's dark past._

The councilman had given the Avatar the same advantage that he enjoyed. That was two ex-benders with the power to use their knowledge against the Equalist! And he was taking both of them with him on this mad journey to escape from the forces of the Water Tribe! Was he insane?!

Or did he expect Tarrlok to… comply and help him control the Avatar?

But that made no sense! How could Amon believe that Tarrlok would change sides so easily? Why would the councilman comply with the Equalist Agenda? They'd never given him reason to favor them and the politician had clearly hated Equalists! Why, he'd been ready to lock away even the lowliest chi-blocker for life and there were rumors that he was looking to abolish many of Avatar Aang's laws against capital punishment for non-blood bending prisoners!

But then why had Tarrlok been so compliant today if he hated Equalists so much?

He hadn't fought or resisted at all. The councilman had meekly followed Amon throughout the day and obeyed every request without the slightest opposition. There'd been no need to restrain him or subdue him, he'd acted like a well-trained dog…

Tarrlok had said he knew Amon by a single touch.

The lieutenant clenched his teeth and swallowed back the bile that rose in his throat as he recalled the councilman's comment about how well he knew the Equalist Leader. His mouth twisted into a frown of intense bitterness and disgust—as though he'd just swallowed something truly vile.

They had to have been intimate in the past! How else could the councilman have recognized the Equalist Leader by a single touch! To think that the noble and honorable Amon had been seduced by that vile, despicable monster… it was too horrible!

Poor Amon! Scarred by a fire bender, trifled with by a blood bender—probably tortured by the cruel man! No wonder the Equalist Leader was filled with so much rage! To have been abused and betrayed so viciously! It was unimaginable!

If only Zhen had known sooner, he might have been less aggressive in his overtures. Was it any wonder that his commander rejected his advances after having suffered at the hands of the evil councilman? There could be no blame laid upon the Amon. He was a victim of Tarrlok's evil passions!

But if they were intimate… if they had been that close…

 _Then of course Tarrlok would know Amon's darkest secrets…  
… and of course, Amon would know Tarrlok's darkest secrets!_

It all made sense now!

The councilman's docile behavior, his impotent threats of revealing Amon's secrets! Tarrlok still had a dark secret he hoped to bury, but the Equalist Leader knew his secret! He would behave as long as the scarred man kept his peace!

The lieutenant snuck another glance at the ex-bender across the table as he turned the stack of files and papers in his hand once more. He'd been a blood bender until Amon had purified him. It was hard to imagine that Tarrlok had secrets darker than his horrible abilities, but there had to be something that the Equalist Leader held over him. Something that he could use to force the politician's compliance.

… but compliance wasn't guaranteed on the road…

And it was clear to Zhen that Amon still had feelings for Tarrlok. The lieutenant couldn't help but worry about what would happen when the councilman realized that there was no one to hide from. Would he kill his scarred ex-lover and make off with the Avatar himself?

Amon clearly didn't think Tarrlok would hurt him, but men had been blinded by love before.

"You've been shuffling those files for the past twenty minutes."

Zhen jumped at the sound of the councilman's smooth tenor. He looked up to see a pair of icy blue eyes staring at him curiously through the flickering darkness. The mustached lieutenant glanced down at the large stack of files in his hands. "I suppose I am finished here." He said coolly. He set the files down on the table and rested a protective hand on them.

A heavy silence settled between them. The lieutenant felt tense as he stared at the handsome water tribe politician seated across from him. After all, Tarrlok was very likely Amon's ex-lover. If things had been different, Zhen might have been Amon's new lover…

He felt like a character in one of the trashy novellas he wrote in his spare time. Zhen was the good wife. Tarrlok was the specter of 'the other woman'—an intimidating and seductive figure who was everything the good woman could never be; the living embodiment of the hero's darker lusts.

If things were different, if Zhen were Amon's lover, then this would play out as a triumphant moment. Tarrlok would goad and taunt him, but the lieutenant would remind the proverbial 'other woman' of his triumph. But the unfortunate reality was that they'd both lost.

There was no happy ending…

Though perhaps Tarrlok would seduce the emotionally vulnerable Amon on the road and they would become lovers again… making the Avatar twice as vulnerable and alone.

Was that what Amon hoped for?

For a moment Zhen thought his heart would break.

Did Amon really hope that Tarrlok would come back to him? After all this time? Was he still in love with him? Had all those subtle comments and kind words—those brief moments of passing flirtation when Zhen had felt truly certain that Amon saw him as more than a mere loyal follower—had that been nothing but a passing fancy to the Equalist Leader?

The councilman broke the silence again, "I'm sorry, I don't mean to pry, but…?" Those cold blue eyes continued to peer at him with great curiosity.

Even in the flickering darkness, Zhen could see that Tarrlok watched him with one brow raised. But the lieutenant had no kind feelings for the blood bender. "Spit it out!" he snapped.

"What exactly is your relationship with Amon?" The politician asked. His voice was soft and he sounded concerned.

Zhen tensed, his jaw muscles clenched and he glared viciously at Tarrlok.

That wasn't a question! That was an admission! There was no other reason he'd ask that question, unless they'd been lovers! He was assessing the presumed 'new blood!' He was sizing up his rival!

Zhen's mouth snarled and he bared his teeth in anger. "None of your business."

Tarrlok's face pulled into something between a grimace of disgust and a smug sneer. "That close, huh? Didn't think he'd go for that, considering his interests back then." The politician snorted in a way that wasn't entirely dismissive and looked away. "I guess that shows what I know."

Zhen bridled at the insult. Did Tarrlok think that Amon's unspoken preference for a non-bender, such as himself, was in bad taste? But then what else could he expect of a blood bending tyrant!? The councilman grimaced in disgust at the very thought of love between two non-bending men! It was astounding that the haughty politician had ever deigned to lower himself to be with the scarred man!

The lieutenant was so busy being outraged that it took him a moment to notice that Tarrlok was making choking sounds. But as soon as he heard those soft noises, he realized that what he'd taken for a grimace of disgust was the closest thing to a smile that the northern politician could manage. The councilman let out a dry, unpleasant chuckle—it might have been a soft, broken cough—as he leaned forward. His noble, handsome features slid into the dim, rapidly blinking light, even as his pale blue eyes fell into shadow. Nevertheless, Zhen could feel the councilman watching him.

"That's rather unsafe," Tarrlok said. "Don't you know that men like him just use people up and toss them aside like they're nothing?"

Zhen tensed, he wasn't sure if he wanted to leave the room or strike out at the man across from him. In the end he kept his temper in check by reminding himself that Amon trusted him to watch Tarrlok.

"What would you know about it?" The lieutenant did his best to sound unaffected, but he couldn't quite keep the strain out of his voice.

Tarrlok was quiet for a moment. The shadows around him seemed to deepen and some tension or energy drained from his flesh, because it looked like he was sinking into himself. Then he said, "I know him."

Zhen turned away sharply, his eyes searched the darkness behind him, but it offered no easy distraction. He walked to one of the Future Industries lanterns and toyed with the dials, adjusting it so that the light stopped flickering. As he worked, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly, collecting himself. Then he spoke, "You keep saying that, but really, you have no evidence." He swallowed and cast a glance over his shoulder at the politician across the table, "There is no reason for me be to believe you know anything about Amon at all…"

"I suppose I can't convince you. You clearly don't trust me, but the truth is that I know him." Tarrlok gave him a smirk, "And I know him far better than you. I mean, really, what has he shared with you? His ideals? His tales of a terrible past? His bed…?"

Zhen flinched and turned sharply away.

"Oh. Good enough to keep around, but not good enough for that." Tarrlok chuckled. "You're lucky. He must actually respect you enough not to use you."

"What is that supposed to mean!?" Zhen snapped.

"You really don't know him at all, do you? For all his lofty ideals he's quite a despicable man," Tarrlok said coldly. The lights flickered out of time causing the shadows to move strangely across his face, making him appear more like a grim specter than a human. "The kind of man who chews people up and spits them out when he's finished with them."

Zhen bridled, enraged by the councilman's cruel words about his esteemed leader. "That's a lie!"

One of the lanterns went out, shrouding the upper half of Tarrlok's face in shadow. But Zhen could clearly see the politician's smirk and the glint of his blue eyes as he said, "And how would you know? You know Amon, but you don't know the man behind the mask, do you? He likes that, doesn't he? When people are just far enough away that he doesn't seem entirely human? When people admire him?"

Zhen's head swam with rage. He swore that the room was tilting onto its side. He gasped, struggling to draw air into his lungs, which seemed to have seized up. "You…" he panted, "You disgusting, despicable, vile, evil…!"

The politician watched him struggle with a quiet smile. "Does it really bother you that much? The thought that you're wrong about him?" The lights flickered again, lanterns coming back on as others switched off, so that Tarrlok's eyes became visible as he looked down his nose at the lieutenant, "Or are you so consumed by jealousy and pent-up lust that you can't see how he's using you?"

Zhen had been born in Republic City. His parents had kept a flat near the docks in the middle of Red Monsoon territory. Whenever the triad felt pressed or troubled, they buckled down on the non-benders in the area. Every few months, members of the triad would cycle through and extort payment from the families living in their region of the city.

Zhen had been a rebellious boy and something of an upstart as a young man. As a result, he became quite familiar with their various techniques for forcing compliance from those who lived under the authority of the local triad. Now, the Red Monsoons kept several blood benders in their number, but none of them were anything like Tarrlok. They could only bend during the full moon. So, the gang had to come up with methods of torturing non-compliant non-benders when there was no full moon.

Zhen had tested them repeatedly and learned exactly how creative the thugs could be. There was a particular form of torture that the lieutenant had become quite familiar with in his late teens that the triad reserved for 'special thorns in their side.' It involved letting droplets of water fall upon a single point in the middle of the victim's forehead. Over the course of long hours, even days, those droplets would continue to fall at a steady pace.

Claustrophobia set in after an hour from the restraints alone. After three hours the pressure would begin to build. The pain came gradually after that. A slow, gradual creep that built into skull-splitting agony. Zhen had been left under the drip for eight hours once. He'd been cold and wet and half-mad from the agony. There were nights that he woke to the sound of the drip of water and he'd be unable to return to sleep. He knew men who'd sat under the drip far longer than him, who'd gone mad from it.

Tarrlok's presence at Amon's side was like that torture. Every overly curt exchange, every subtle insult—insults Amon permitted—every show of disrespect, every quiet glance exchanged between the two men, every breath they drew in the same room, every second that Amon treated the councilman like he belonged at his side was like the slow drip of water onto a single point on Zhen's forehead. The pain had built up so slowly that he'd barely noticed it, but now he could not deny the nearly blinding pressure in his skull.

The blood bender's comments about knowing Amon, the slanderous comments, the digs about Zhen's feelings… they were the metaphorical 'final drop' that sent him over the edge.

Zhen spun and slammed his hand down on the table, "How do you know him?!" he howled. "How can you know him?! What would a man like Amon want with a vile, despicable, cruel, evil blood bender like you?!" He leaned over the table, his hands clawing at the surface between them. He watched Tarrlok shoot back in his seat, hands grabbing at his chair to keep himself upright as he recoiled from the lieutenant. Zhen felt his bones had burrowed through the fleshy pads of his fingers and into the wood. "You asked me what I am to him, well, I can tell you that I'm clearly nothing compared to you! So, now it's my turn to ask, what are you to him!? Why would he trust a monster like you?!" He bit of the words with the ferocity of a tiger bear and when he was done speaking his teeth were clenched so tightly that he didn't think he'd be able to pry them open ever again. His lips were pulled back in a furious snarl, his every breath shuddered with explosive rage, and he felt as though his brow was furrowed so deeply that his eyebrows had merged into one long, steep 'v' on his forehead.

Across the table, Tarrlok cowered in the dim shadows. His eyes were wide with fear and every part of his body was as tense as a deer rabbit that'd found itself in the sights of a jackal cat. The lieutenant could just see the councilman's white-knuckled grip on the seat of his chair.

Zhen calmed and straightened, retreating to his side of the table. He was troubled by the look of abject terror on the other man's face. Tarrlok was a blood bender. There was no reason for him to be afraid of a non-bender. After all, what had a non-bender ever done to him? What could a non-bender do to him?

As soon as the lieutenant calmed and withdrew, Tarrlok began to uncoil. He sat up straight and forward in his chair and carefully arranged himself so he looked more presentable. It was, Zhen realized, a bid to make himself feel a little more like he was in control of the situation.

"I…" the blood bender began, but he paused, his eyes darted nervously, and he fidgeted in his chair. It seemed he was having difficulty collecting his thoughts or even guessing at where to begin. Then he looked up at Zhen, incredulous, "Trust me? You think this is trust?" he asked.

Zhen growled and brought his fist down on the table. "Why else would he keep you with him throughout this mess?!"

Tarrlok looked away sharply, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I believe…" he swallowed and drew into himself, "it's because he promised…" his eyes widened again and he stopped speaking abruptly, as though he'd just realized what he'd been about to say. He shook his head sharply. "No. It's been too long for that to hold any meaning. I'm thirty-seven. I'm not a child anymore. He couldn't possibly be thinking…" he muttered.

Zhen realized that the councilman was speaking more to himself than to his captor. Nevertheless, the councilman's comments were revealing. Amon had made a promise?

To whom?

To Tarrlok?

What had he promised?

Zhen leaned forward again, his body clenched with restrained rage. "Promised what?! What secrets are you keeping for him!? Why does he trust you!?"

"This isn't trust!" Tarrlok snarled as he glared at the lieutenant and leaned forward in his seat. The shadows shifted around him, deepening the lines on his face and lending his already haggard appearance an aged, malevolent quality.

"What is it, then?!" Zhen was seconds from throwing the table at the blood bender and trying to crush him beneath the heavy wooden piece of furniture. "Why else would he let you walk free?!"

Anger left the councilman again. His eyes dropped to the floor, narrowing pensively and giving the man the appearance that he was struggling – struggling! Hah! – to find the reason behind Amon's actions—as if he didn't know!

"I'm…" Tarrlok hesitated, "He made a promise to someone we both cared about…" he spoke slowly as if giving every word great consideration, "It was a long time ago and I guess he's trying to keep it… in spite of everything…"

Zhen felt some of the tension drain out of him. What Tarrlok said made sense. It was just like Amon to try to keep some old promise he'd made long ago, even if everyone else involved had long forgotten about it. Nevertheless, it was very strange that Amon might keep a promise regarding Tarrlok.

The lieutenant couldn't stop himself from asking, "What, did he promise to protect you or something?" He'd never heard of something so ridiculous.

 _A non-bender protecting a bender?_

 _Really?_

Tarrlok, however, looked away. The wild curtain of dark hair obscured his expression, but the mustached lieutenant could just make out a grimace of humiliation and shame on the other man's face.

Once Zhen realized what the councilman's expression gave away, he took an involuntary step back.

Amon had promised to protect Tarrlok. But who had coerced such a promise from the Equalist Leader? Why had Amon agreed to such a ridiculous thing? How had any of this come to pass?

 _Most importantly: Did this mean they hadn't been lovers?_

Aloud, he asked: "Who would ever ask anyone to look after you? And why would Amon ever agree to such a thing?"

Zhen could just barely see Tarrlok's face contorting into a mask of pain as the councilman said: "It doesn't matter, she's dead by now."

A woman.

The tension drained from Zhen's body.

Oh, thank the spirits. This was about a woman.

What a relief!

It all made so much sense! In the early years of the Revolution Amon had intermittently taken lovers; young men and women who'd recently joined the equalists and shown their devotion to the cause. He'd never remained with them for very long—never more than a week—and he never developed any attachment to them. Zhen had always found his commander's attitudes toward intimacy strangely out of character, since the Equalist Leader seemed like a man of deep feeling and attachment.

If Amon had lost someone he cared for—such as, say, a woman he might have otherwise married—then he might have trouble becoming intimate again. Particularly if she'd met a terrible end and Amon feared suffering such a loss again. And of course he'd want to honor any wish or promise they'd made together, even if it meant protecting a blood bender!

Zhen knew that Amon was a sentimental man, the sort who cared about principle and righteousness. It was something that the lieutenant admired about his commander, but it was the Equalist Leader's greatest weakness. Amon was, after all, more honorable than most men. For as long as Zhen had known the masked man, he'd never turned his back on a comrade and he'd always been fair and just to friend and enemy alike—he even gave benders a chance to fight back before he removed their bending! That was more than anyone else would have ever done!

Of course Amon would keep a foolish, idiotic, promise to the woman he'd once loved! That was just the sort of man he was!

Zhen was halfway thought imagining the woman and how she'd died, when Tarrlok's voice cut through his imaginings— "You've completely misunderstood everything, haven't you?"

The lieutenant glanced up to see the blood bender studying him with cool blue eyes. The councilman had shifted slightly in his seat so that nearly half his face was visible in the dim light of the room. He seemed to have regained some of his confidence, he was sitting up straight and leaning forward in his chair.

A wicked smirk spread across the blood bender's face and he leaned forward to rest his arm on the table. There was a cruel spark of amusement in his eyes.

Zhen's blood ran cold.

Tarrlok arched a brow and let his head fall to one side as he studied Amon's lieutenant. Then he said, "Let me explain a few things before your head runs wild with torrid tales of romance." He grinned like a fox cat that had just discovered an unguarded nest of turtle duck eggs. "Now, I can't tell you everything. That would land us both in hot water with your… _beloved_ Amon." The smile vanished from his face. His mouth pulled into a sharp grimace as he hunched forward over the table and hissed, "Let me assure you that there is nothing romantic about my relationship with your master."

Zhen's head jerked back at Tarrlok's tone. He'd said the words, 'your master' like it was a grievous insult. Like the councilman had just called him 'dog.'

"I suppose I haven't been clear. I told you, I know Amon, but it'd be more correct to say that I knew the person he was a long time ago." The councilman snickered, "Why does he trust me?" he asked, mocking Zhen's demanding question. "This isn't trust. This is how he really is. He's a man who keeps his friends close and his enemies closer. He guards those who threaten his power and position fiercely. After all, it's easier to keep your enemies in line when they're in easy striking range." Tarrlok laughed again. "Oh no, he doesn't trust me at all; but he trusts you. He trusts you enough to leave you alone with me."

Zhen felt his cheeks color, even as his heart clenched with worry. What Tarrlok said made sense. But what he said… it wasn't…

 _That wasn't who Amon was…_

 _He'd never keep someone close just to… to make sure they could be quickly disciplined!_

 ** _That wasn't who Amon was!_**

Tarrlok's mouth twisted into a deep and bitter frown. "Ah, nothing's really changed has it? What? Twenty? Twenty-five years?" The councilman shrugged, "He's never trusted me with anything." He shook his head, "I guess he still sees the same pathetic, worthless failure." Tarrlok's gaze tilted toward the floor, letting the dark curtain of his disheveled hair obscure his features. "Who can blame him?"

 _Failure?_

 _What was Tarrlok talking about?_

He was Councilman Tarrlok. He was the man who'd nearly ruled over all of Republic City. He was the man that the Equalists had consistently named the greatest threat to their Revolution…

 _And he believed that Amon thought he was a failure?_

Zhen's eyes narrowed. This had something to do with the woman, didn't it?

But Tarrlok had said that it wasn't a torrid romance… but what else could it be? What other relationship could possibly cause such strife and turmoil?

And anyway, it wasn't like Zhen could trust a single word out of Tarrlok's mouth…

But, then… why not put it to the test? "You know, you're right. I have a hard time believing anyone could ever trust you, let alone love you."

Tarrlok looked up at him in shock and then his face split into a wide, manic grin. He burst out laughing. "Of course! You're right!" he chortled, "You've got me pegged, Lu Zhen!" Tears began to leak out of the corners of the councilman's eyes as he continued to chuckle manically, "I'm the loser! It's like they say, second child, second best! Even my own parents thought I was a waste of time!"

Zhen looked away, embarrassed by the gross display of emotion. The man was weeping in front of him. Ranting about family and his own status as…

 _Second child…?_

Zhen's eyes were drawn back to Tarrlok as his mind spun with this new information.

 _Could…?_

"Spirits, after everything was said and done, after all that…" the councilman's face contorted into an expression of agony, "even my own father couldn't bring himself to look at me… And I was all he had left!"

Had Amon been in love with Tarrlok's older sister…? But of course! The sort of family that Tarrlok probably came from… what with him being a councilman and all… They wouldn't have approved of a scarred farm boy like Amon… Their love would have been forbidden.

Tarrlok would have followed his father's lead and looked down on Amon. He would have denied any romance between his noble sister and the good man… Had he played a role in the loss of Amon's beloved?

Zhen stared at Tarrlok quietly, brow furrowed in concentration, as he tried to figure him out.

"What did you think of Amon when you knew him?" Zhen asked.

"I loved him and I hated him," Tarrlok replied tiredly.

Zhen's eyes widened in horror, "You _loved_ him!?" But Tarrlok had said-! Had he been lying?! But the woman-!?

"We used to be very close," Tarrlok continued, "There was a time when we were inseparable. I looked up to him."

Zhen's eyes narrowed in anger. "Inseparable? _You_ looked up to _him_?!" He couldn't believe it! "Why would Amon have _anything_ to do with a bender? How could he have tolerated a vile monster like you!? Didn't you say that you were raised in the North Pole? What the hell was he doing in the North Pole twenty-five years ago?! He was born and raised in the United Republic! His family was killed by Fire Benders!"

The councilman nearly leapt out of his seat as he slammed his hand onto the table, " _That's a lie!_ "

Zhen slid back, his hands rose defensively. He watched the bender across from him warily.

Tarrlok met Zhen's wary look with his cold, dead eyes. "Yes. Amon lied to you. He lies to everyone. He lied to me. He lied to his followers. He _lied_ to you."

Zhen's face morphed into a mask of fury as he slammed his fists down on the table. "That's a lie!" he shouted. "You don't know anything! Why would Amon want to have anything to do with a Blood Bender like you?!"

Tarrlok looked away, shamefaced. "You can't choose…" Tarrlok choked on his words. "Spirits, I can't even say it! I hate thinking it!" He buried his face in his hands. "This is a nightmare! _I wish he'd stayed dead_!"

Zhen's brow furrowed in confusion. "Amon never died!"

Tarrlok looked at Zhen, his face a mask of pain and anger. "We _thought_ he'd died!" he shouted. "It tore us apart! He had the nerve to leave us behind and do… all this! He left us to suffer!"

The lieutenant wasn't sure what to make of Tarrlok's words, so he stuck with what he knew, "Well he's not dead!" he retorted. It was all he could think to say.

The councilman let out a harsh bark of laughter, "Clearly!"

"I don't know what history you think you have with Amon, but it's meaningless now!" Zhen snarled. "You're a filthy blood bender and he's the leader of the Equalist Revolution! You're nothing to him!"

Tarrlok snorted and looked away. "I wish that were the case." He grimaced in pain. "I wish he'd just killed me and been done with it."

"Why?" Zhen demanded. "Are you ashamed of something you did? Did you betray him? Blood bend him?" The lieutenant's blood was hot. He was posed to strike at the barest hint of admission. "Is facing his mercy the worst thing you can imagine for your crimes?"

Tarrlok looked at him, his eyes wide and empty, devoid of any emotion that Zhen could name. The councilman looked haunted, like he'd seen or experienced something so horrible that nothing else could possibly compare…

It astounded the lieutenant how quickly that strange, disturbed expression morphed into a mask of rage.

" _I_ blood bent _him_? _I_ betrayed _him_?!" Tarrlok squared off against Zhen. "You ignorant, lovesick, fool! You think I'm a monster, but you refuse to see that he is a thousand times worse than I am!" The councilman's hair fell around his face as he leaned forward heavily against the table.

Zhen recoiled, but he didn't back down. "You!? Better than Amon!? I'd like to see that!"

But Tarrlok didn't seem to be listening, his head had dropped and he was shaking. "He betrayed us, he left us behind… After everything, he didn't care at all! We were nothing to him! We were never anything to him!"

Zhen stepped back, his brow furrowed in concern, "What…? Are you…?"

Tarrlok reached up and clutched his head, his palm pressing into the middle of his forehead. "He abandoned us with our tormentor!"

The lieutenant felt a chill run down his spine as he looked at Tarrlok. He recalled other ex-benders, prisoners, had become… violently unstable shortly after they'd lost their bending. But he shook off his concerns. He could take this ex-blood bender in a fight.

"Spit it out! What are you talking about?!" he snapped.

"I'm talking about the real reason he hates bending!" Tarrlok snarled.

"A fire bender killed his family and burned off his face!" Zhen shouted.

"I don't know how he became a… a…" the councilman grimaced and faltered as he searched for words, "a scarred-up freak!"

Zhen recoiled in umbrage. He opened his mouth to berate the man in front of him, but Tarrlok kept talking.

"…but let me assure you," Tarrlok gave the lieutenant a feral look, "a fire bender _didn't_ kill his family!"

"What are you talking about?!" Zhen snarled in fury. "He has no reason to lie!"

But Tarrlok wasn't cowed. He leaned in until they were nose to nose as he growled: "Oh, he has _every_ reason to lie! He's so ashamed of himself I'm sure!—Of his real history!"

The lieutenant jerked backward, uncomfortable with the proximity. "Right! Like you know anything!"

"I know more than you, you pathetic, infatuated moron!" the councilman sneered.

The lieutenant glared at Tarrlok with barely restrained rage. "How dare you-!?"

"How dare I?!" Tarrlok mocked, cutting him off. "He trusts you to watch me, but why don't you find out what'll happen if you cause me any harm!?" He challenged with a cruel grin.

"You think he'll defend you?!" Zhen sneered. His hands itched for his electrified kali sticks.

"I know he will!" Tarrlok shouted, his voice cracking and breaking. "…I know he will…"

It was Zhen's turn to scoff. "Why would he care about a filthy blood bender or his family!?"

"Why would he care about…" Tarrlok chuckled… "A filthy blood bender or his family?!" The councilman doubled over and his body heaved as he laughed long and loud.

The lieutenant's eyes narrowed sharply. "What do you know?"

It took a moment for the politician to catch his breath and calm down. But once he'd stifled his snickering enough he said, "We grew up together."

Zhen rolled his eyes and shook his head in disbelief.

The councilman, calm and almost melancholy once more, turned away as he wrapped his arms around himself. "He watched me and looked after me…" he murmured as he slowly dropped back into his chair, "We used to play together in the snow…"

"That's a load of ox horse shit!" Zhen knew that if there was any kind of bender that could make someone hate bending, it was blood bending. For years the Red Monsoons had relied on blood bending to rule the streets. He'd watched hundreds die at the hands of vile blood benders. He'd been at their mercy… "If there's one kind of bender that is more reviled than any other, it's blood benders!" the lieutenant snarled.

The politician looked up at Zhen. His empty eyes, once again growing hard and cold. But the lieutenant didn't care, he wasn't about to let a blood bender lead him by the nose.

He tapped his chest angrily as he snarled, "I remember what the Red Monsoons did to people on the streets! I was one of their favorite targets! A man like Amon would never have anything to do with-!"

The councilman gave Zhen a sympathetic smile. "It feels awful, doesn't it?"

"What?" The lieutenant snapped.

"Being blood bent."

Zhen's eyes widened, he reared back in fury. "Don't mock me!"

"I'm not." Tarrlok grimaced and looked down at the floor. "I was thirteen years old when my father took my brother and I out into the snow and tried to make us blood bend each other."

Zhen felt all the blood leave his face.

"…what?"

"He didn't even hesitate." Tarrlok didn't seem to hear him. His eyes were vacant—like he'd been pulled back in time to the moment he'd been… _tortured_ by his brother… "He just… did what he was told. Not a second of hesitation."

Zhen felt the air leave his lungs. He could not move. He could not breath. He couldn't hear or think.

Tarrlok's head dropped back, his arms dropped to his side and his back arched, his body bent into a backbend as if in supplication. The councilman's eyes widened as if in fear and pain. His mouth fell open and Zhen swore he could see muscles twitching just beneath the politician's skin as every part of him tensed—resisting the posture, even as he bent himself into it.

Every hair on the lieutenant's body was on end as he stared at the politician. The man was reliving torture visited upon him by his own brother…

 _The posture was like the one that Amon forced benders into before he took their bending…_

Zhen stepped back. His hand covered his mouth. He turned away.

That thought… that Amon might have… based his technique on the torture visited upon a… a childhood friend… How many times had he seen the technique performed? How many times had he seen it practiced…

 _Of all things, why would he choose that?!_

Zhen shook his head and forced himself to look at Tarrlok. "… your father… he was…?"

Tarrlok choked and gasped. He seemed to be struggling to move his limbs freely and easily. But slowly he began to pull and twist himself out of the imagined blood bending grip. His body bent forward sharply.

The councilman looked up at the lieutenant through a curtain of heavy, dark hair. "Bending… blood bending without the full moon takes years of grueling, rigorous training. It's a hell I wouldn't wish on anyone."

 _Tarrlok's father… he'd… forced his children to…?_

Zhen felt sick.

"I swore that I'd never…" Tarrlok's voice cracked as he trailed off. He reached up and covered his eyes with his hand.

Zhen looked away. He knew the councilman was… breaking down. He wished he didn't have to be in the same room as a man who was coming apart at his seams.

 _But Tarrlok had brought it on himself._

Zhen remembered his own treatment at the hands of this vile man. The councilman had gripped him and made him lie on the floor, prostrate before him. It had been painful and humiliating.

 _He had no reason to feel sorry for this man._

The politician spoke up again. "She was going to kill me. I see now that I deserved it, because she was right… Amon and I are the same." He swallowed sharply and loudly. "I wish she'd have put me out of my misery."

The lieutenant found his brow knitting in pity for the pathetic creature that sat before him. "You hate yourself don't you?"

"Wouldn't you?" Tarrlok asked.

 _Of course he'd hate himself!_

If he were a blood bender, he'd hate himself more than anything in the entire world! He'd hate being a terrible and vile monster who terrorized the helpless and made people miserable!

…But if he were a blood bender, he'd be powerful… Powerful enough to put the world right if he wanted to… And no one would be able to stop him…

 _NO! That wasn't who he was!_

He shook his head sharply and looked away.

He'd never considered it before… If _he_ were a blood bender? What would he do with that power?

It was an uncomfortable question.

He glanced at Tarrlok who sat, wrecked and ruined, in the chair across from him.

The councilman had sworn to never blood bend again. And if what he'd said was true, he'd kept his promise right up until his confrontation with the Avatar…

Would the lieutenant have resisted using such power for so long?

Zhen wasn't quite sure he'd have the strength for that…

His disquiet deepened. He needed to fill the room with sound again. He didn't want to be alone with these questions, these terrible thoughts…

"Your father made you blood bend your brother?" He asked.

Tarrlok made a soft hiccoughing sound and then said, "I refused. I was a weakling and a coward. I refused."

The lieutenant frowned at the man across from him. "You refused… and you were the weakling…?" No wonder he was such a horrible person! He'd been raised to believe that choosing not to be cruel and evil was weak!

"My brother was only three years older than me. I'm thirty-seven. He's forty now." The councilman said. He looked up at Zhen, accusation in his eyes. "Do you really think that benders are just born slinging fire and tossing boulders? That we just magically know how to control our powers? Do you think I was always like this? Is it impossible to imagine that there might have been a time before…? Before our father decided that we were weapons not children…?" The councilman seemed to lose focus again, as if he were being pulled back to that time before he was a blood bender. "He watched me, looked after me…"

The lieutenant felt sick with anger and… something akin to guilt. "But you still went along with it!" He shouted. "You still let him shape you!"

At the same time, he couldn't help but wonder…

If Amon and Tarrlok had known each other as children…

What would it have been like to watch a friend turn into a monster? A child you looked after and played with? What would it have been like to lose that person to a man who was so cruel as to torture his own children…?

A best friend…?

Someone like a brother…?

He couldn't imagine it.

Once again, he was left with a terrible sense of discomfort. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel about what he'd learned. Nothing fit with his own understanding and experiences…

He tried to fill the silence again, "So your father was a master blood bender who tortured you?"

Tarrlok didn't even look at him. "I was seven. He was my father. He'd been kind and good. I thought he loved me as his son before it all started. I only wanted to make him proud of me." He spoke in a dispassionate monotone, as if he were numb to the information.

 _Were all blood benders like this? Frightened children eager to please a parent?_

Zhen couldn't believe that.

Tarrlok twitched, his eyes began to dart. His fingers jerked and moved unsteadily. He reached up to push his hair out of his face. "But I could never compare…" He rocked back and forth, and his fingers began to pull at his hair. "Not at all…" He murmured, more to himself than to Zhen. "I was the weakling. The spare. The worthless, unskilled…!"

The lieutenant frowned at the councilman's behavior. He seemed unhinged… or like he was becoming unhinged. He tried to draw the man back into the conversation, "Your brother was that skilled?" he asked. "You didn't need the full moon and he was better than you?" He found it hard to believe.

Tarrlok chuckled. "He didn't even have to move his hands. He just needed to be able to see his opponent…"

Zhen didn't think he could be more horrified.

"What does Amon have to do with any of this?" He demanded.

The councilman glanced at Zhen and smiled. The lieutenant realized that it was meant to be a nasty smile, but it came off as nervous and incredibly uncomfortable. "I was his first foray into protecting another person. Practice."

 _Oh spirits…_

Tarrlok turned his eyes away and studied the floor to his right. "He failed. Fucked it up badly."

 _No…_

Amon wouldn't have dared to pit himself against a group of blood benders who were strong enough to… to… And with a single look?

The councilman chuckled lightly. "In the end he ran away."

"…no." Zhen said.

"Do you know why?" Tarrlok asked.

Zhen shook his head. "…shut up…"

Tarrlok grinned, this time he did manage to be nasty. "Because you can't protect someone who's able to stand up for themselves."

Zhen looked up in confusion. Those were the horrible words he'd been expecting...

"Oh?" Tarrlok tilted his head to one side. "Maybe I wasn't clear. You and all your little Equalists are only important to Amon as long as you're vulnerable and helpless. That's how he is." The councilman's smile widened, "He likes people who are helpless, who are vulnerable, who can't protect themselves. He likes to feel like a savior and a hero, but that only works if you're in peril!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Zhen snarled.

The politician snickered. "I'm talking about what he does. He goes out and finds someone helpless and he 'protects' them. He 'saves' them from their tormentor..." Tarrlok chuckled, "Maybe 'protect' is too strong a word...

"He puts himself between the victim and the tormentor. He antagonizes the tormentor so that life becomes completely unbearable for the victim. And he'll.. galvanize both sides until the victim finally puts up a fight. And then, right when you really need him, right when you desperately need his support and protection... he will leave you."

Zhen's eyes widened in shock. "That's not true!" he shouted.

 _... but it was happening right now, wasn't it...? Amon was leaving them all..._

 _No! He couldn't beleive it! He wouldn't be led by this evil man!_

The councilman shrugged and said, "I lived through hell from the age of seven. Even though he was in a position to put an end to our suffering, he never once raised his hand. In the did what he couldn't do. I put my foot down and resisted." Tarrlok glanced away, his expression pained, "And that was when he left... he didn't kill him or stop him or provide any other help. As soon as I did what he'd never...!" He jerked, his eyes shutting tightly and his face contorted as if in pain.

The ex-blood bender began speaking again, in a calm, low, level voice. "He never once fought back. He was like a wall, in some ways... He took the punishment, but he never really did anything to stop what was happening. He made a martyr of himself at my expense. He had so much power! But he never once tried to fight him!" The politician looked straight into Zhen's eyes as he said, "I had to do that. And when he couldn't play hero anymore, he left me to rot."

Zhen shook his head in disbelief, "You're a bender!" he snapped. "If you'd had some guts-!"

Tarrlok shook his head. "He was stronger than me. But in the end he fled like a coward while I endured."

"You make it sound like you're the victim!" Zhen shouted. "How could a blood bender be a victim? You have all the power in the world!"

"I was the one who had to fight back. He ran." It was like the shadows of the room were swallowing him up, body and soul. "I took the abuse and the beatings and he, sainted and precious, played at defending me."

Tarrlok looked up at him with baleful eyes. "You're blind to think that men like him are capable of any goodness. They put themselves up as defenders, but they're all bullies and cowards underneath it all," the councilman sneered.

Zhen took a step back. He'd had seen men and women with hatred in their eyes—all Equalists were angry, you didn't join the revolution if you weren't full of righteous rage. Some were furious at their families, who rejected them for being non-benders. Some hated the powerful benders who oppressed them and took their work opportunities, but _all_ Equalists were united by their fury.

Once that fury was properly shaped and directed, the powerful wrath of non-benders spiraled outward to strike at the bending establishment and inward to root out weakness…

Those were Amon's words.

The anger in Tarrok's eyes—no, radiating throughout his entire body was so intense he could feel it. The rage was like an aura. It was just like in those ancient stories where men faced each other in battle and described their opponent's killing intent. The lieutenant would have sworn that he'd never seen anything like it…

 _… but it was so familiar._

Zhen stumbled for a moment, but recovered himself, "You don't know Amon!" he snarled. "He's the most noble and humane person I've ever met!"

Tarrlok snorted. "Is he? A man who thinks so little of terrorizing a teenage girl?" he asked. "A man who would think nothing of destroying a people and their way of life?"

"What?" the lieutenant snapped.

"Don't tell me you think for a minute that he was going to spare the Air Nation," the politician retorted.

Zhen shook his head in disbelief. _Of course_ they needed to be removed, "They're benders!"

A lantern went out. Tarrlok's face and form were thrown into shadow. His voice, however, cut through the darkness. "They're pacifists whose entire culture was nearly annihilated!" He snarled. "And you Equalists wanted to finish the job that Ozai started. Can you justify it?" He demanded. "Can you justify harming children?"

Zhen felt a twinge of fear. He wasn't afraid of the ex-blood bender, but of what the man was saying. His voice was too strong.

"They won't be harmed!" Zhen reasoned. "Their bending will be removed! It won't make that much of a difference!"

"Then you will complete Ozai's work."

Zhen flinched and winced. He shook his head sharply. "This is for the best!" He shouted. "There will be some sacrifices, but it's for the best!"

"Do you really think so?" The councilman jeered. "Do you really think you know him?"

"Of course I do!" Zhen snapped, but he didn't sound as strong as before. His voice was growing weak as his head began to fill with doubt and questions… There were so many little things in Amon's backstory that didn't quite add up…

"You don't know anything." The councilman hissed. "You know a personality. A character he's playing! I knew him before he became Amon! I knew him when he was just a boy with a chip on his shoulder and talent to spare!"

Zhen stepped further from the table, his hands came up to cover his ears as he turned away from the politician. "I trust him!" He shouted.

"You want to know something…?" the ex-blood bender asked in a soft, taunting voice.

Zhen didn't want to know any more. He wanted the damn bastard to shut up and quit… disrupting everything.

"The night I took the Avatar prisoner, we fought. You heard about that, right?" The councilman asked.

Zhen nodded. He wished he hadn't.

"She came after me. I was trying to keep my head, in spite of what she said, but she provoked me when she accused me of being exactly like your leader."

"That's ridiculous!" Zhen snapped as he turned on the politician once more. "You two have nothing in common! The Avatar is a fool for comparing you two!"

Tarrlok chuckled softly. "You'd think that, wouldn't you? I was so angry at being compared to him I attacked her. We fought. She nearly killed me and I gave in and blood bent her…. After all these years… I never used it. I swore I wouldn't. I swore I'd be better than both of them. I swore that I'd never once… But coward…. _Monster_ that I am, I did it."

Zhen could see the councilman's blue eyes glinting in the darkness. The Equalist couldn't look away from those pale, glinting orbs.

"How do I describe my horror at discovering that her words were accurate? We share so much your master and I. Our lives intersect in so many ways…"

Zhen shook his head sharply. "Name one!" He shouted. "Name a single way that you're like Amon!"

"We would have torn this city apart to achieve our ends."

"That's not true!" the lieutenant howled, " _You_ were tearing this city apart! Amon was trying to help us! Benders hurt us! Terrorized us in our homes and on the streets! You enabled them!" Zhen snarled. "We're oppressed! We're making a stand!"

"But did you need a war?"

"What? No!" The lieutenant's head hurt.

"You started a Revolution. You began fighting in the streets."

"We were striking back!" Zhen retorted.

"You could have put pressure on the council to bring on a non-bending representative, just like Amon could have reached out to be benders who are just as downtrodden and oppressed as non-benders and brought them into his revolution—making it a more effective and powerful movement."

Zhen growled angrily. "Why would any benders feel oppressed?! They have all the power!"

"Triads don't distinguish between benders and non-benders, but Amon does. And Amon doesn't care what happens to benders whose families are murdered by benders or non-benders."

"Non-benders don't murder benders!" The lieutenant shouted.

"Of course they don't. And your Equalists don't overpower benders and terrorize them for fun when you're not keeping them in line…. Your _Equalists_ didn't come up to the Avatar's cell, looking for an excuse to get inside and have a bit of fun with an ex-bender girl that their leader had so recently humiliated."

Zhen shook his head quickly; his hands came up to clutch his head. "It's different!" He howled.

"Is it?"

"She deserved it!" He cried _... he couldn't believe he'd just said that…_

"Are you sure?"

Zhen's hands came down hard on the table, he gripped it, ready to assault the man in the dark, across from him. "She needed to learn her place!"

 _Oh spirits, what was he saying? He didn't really believe…?_

"Just like non-benders had to learn their place? Of course. Like looking in a mirror isn't it? Same tactics. Same view. Different side of the tracks."

The door hinges creaked.

Zhen gasped. The lantern that had gone out flickered back to life and Tarrlok reappeared.

Both men stared at the door as it began to swing open…

Was it Amon?

Had Amon returned?

Or was it a chi-blocker?

The lieutenant snatched his head-gear from where it lay dangling off the edge of the table and pulled it on. If it was a chi-blocker he needed to look 'put together.' They needed to believe their leaders were in control.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tarrlok smirk snidely at him. The councilman seemed to know exactly what was going through his head.

A small, slightly built Equalist peered into the room cautiously. "Uh… Mr. Esteemed Lieutenant, Sir?" she said in a soft, high voice.

It wasn't Amon. Zhen couldn't hide his disappointment and anger at being interrupted by one of his subordinates. He wanted to see Amon right now. He needed to reassure himself that Tarrlok was lying aobut his commander.

Zhen glared at her sharply. "What is it?" He growled.

The small Equalist stepped cautiously into the room. "Oh, good. It's the right room… Ahem! Mr. Esteemed Lieutenant, Sir? Amon would like a word with you."

Zhen stiffened and turned sharply to, "I was ordered not to leave the councilman's side! Do you really want this man wandering around our base?! Exploiting our secrets!?"

The small Equalist nearly jumped out of her skin. She stumbled backwards and immediately began bowing deeply, repeatedly, and profusely. "S-s-s-s-sorry Your Most Esteemed Excellence Right-Hand-Super-Manliness! I-I'm just following orders! Uh…! Amon-uh-! Amon said that... um Mr. Councilor is to stay where he is..."

The small equalist cast a quick, nervous glance at Tarrlok. "Umm... Mr. Councilor wouldn't want to... to leave this room, because he, um, he knows what was good for him?" she offered.

 _Oh winged spirit of sky and sun give him patience_ , Zhen knew who it was! Amon had sent one of the most inexperienced, flighty members of the organization to fetch him. Yun was a sweet girl, she really was, but she lacked confidence. And as much as he liked the girl—in a fatherly sort of way—he had been the one who'd put her on probation for delivering a certain, vital missive into the hands of a drunk Hiroshi Sato.

He pinched his brow and grimaced as he wondered what she was doing back in the base. She was supposed to stay at home until she was contacted for review! She was not supposed-!

They'd sent all the Equalists of Water Tribe descent home last night. They were short-handed. Of course she'd been called in…

He sucked in a deep breath and corrected her. "You mean, he won't leave this room if he knows what's good for him, don't you, Yun?"

He could almost hear the air woosh as the young Equalist nodded quickly. "Oh! Also, I um…"

"Go on…" the lieutenant said through clenched teeth.

"I have a key to the room? Amon wanted me to deliver it to you?"

He looked up and let out a heavy sigh. She bent at a near perfect right angle with both her hands extended straight out in front of her, palms up, offering him the key like he was some kind of great lord or king…

… and she was shaking with so much nervous, frightened energy, that he thought she might collapse.

The anger and frustration drained out of him.

This movement wasn't all about Amon, it was about people like Yun. Small, nervous, frightened people who were so used to being abused that they'd come to expect it for even the smallest mistake. It was about people like him, who just wanted the feeling of being trapped and helpless to end…

Whatever history Tarrlok shared with Amon, it didn't matter. His feelings for Amon, though important to him, meant very little in the grand scheme of things. He needed to remind himself of that. The Equalist Revolution was bigger than four men.

He smiled, shook his head at his own selfishness, and took the key from Yun. She flinched when his fingers brushed her gloved hand, but aside from that she didn't move. Not even after he'd taken the key from her.

He frowned and sighed, "Yun," he said.

She straightened to attention, saluting him like a good little soldier. "Yes, Sir, Esteemed Lieutenant, Sir!"

"It's just lieutenant, Yun." He studied the key and glanced at Tarrlok.

The councilman was eyeing Yun like she was the most outlandish and annoying thing he'd ever seen.

 _Typical bender elitist scum…_

He turned his attention back to the young Equalist. "I'm going to need some help carrying these files. There's quite a few of them…"

She sucked in a breath and he could see how she just… swelled at the idea of being helpful. "I'd be honored, sir!"

Zhen snorted and shook his head. If it'd been anyone else saying that, he would've simply assumed they were kissing-ass. But he knew the new recruits and Yun was nothing if not completely sincere.

Yun turned, took a step toward the table and froze.

It took the lieutenant a moment to figure out what was going on. It shouldn't have. Yun was staring straight at Tarrlok and he could clearly see the whites of the young Equalist's eyes through her green goggles.

Tarrlok, meanwhile, was wearing an amused smile. "Oh, what's wrong?" he asked smoothly. "Are you afraid of the big bad blood bender?"

"Don't worry. You have nothing to fear from him now," Zhen told Yun. He smirked, "Amon purified him. But…" the lieutenant gave Tarrlok a nasty, smug grin, " _Ex_ -Councilman Tarrlok. You're standing between my young associate and those very important files. Move."

Tarrlok glared at him. "Of course."

The councilman rose to his feet with a grace he hadn't displayed since his capture. As he stepped away from the table, he reached up and pushed his hair out of his face.

For Zhen, it was as though a curtain had been pulled back. Tarrlok's skin was darker than Amon's, his face was longer, the nose was certainly not the same at all… but there was a terrible likeness in the form of the mouth, the shape of the eyes, the arch of the brow and forehead. Even the color of those pale eyes… if not for the fact that Zhen knew it was Tarrlok before him, he would have sworn those eyes belonged to Amon.

How could Amon have the same eyes as this man?

Zhen's mind spun. He turned away, suddenly unable to bear looking at the man who shared Amon's beautiful pale eyes.

Amon had said that he and Tarrlok could build a convincing history together. He'd asked them to report that he'd taken his brother and the Avatar…

His brother…

 _no…_

A shared past…

 _No._

'I know what you are…'

 _It couldn't be…_

'I wasn't my teacher's favorite…'

 _NO!_

There was no way this could possibly be true. Amon's family had been killed by a fire bender. The fire bender had taken Amon's face. Amon's whole family was dead.

But what if that wasn't true? What if he had a brother? A brother who lived…?

The Avatar's words rang in his head: _'I know who you are, your brother told me.'_

Oh, spirits, _no…_

"Mr. Esteemed Lieutenant, Sir?" Zhen looked up and saw Yun standing before him, holding a large stack of files in her arms. "We shouldn't keep, Our Most Exceptional Leader, Amon, waiting."

[] [] []

Tarrlok dropped back into his chair and tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling. Or rather, he stared up into the shadowy space overhead and tried to make out the ceiling through the oppressive darkness. He thought he could just barely see the brownish-gray concrete beyond the edge of the light from the future industries lanterns. It was speckled with countless tiny black dots, porous holes in the artificial stone. A sign of poor craftsmanship and lazy construction…

All those tiny black dots… They were like stars in reverse, only noticeable because they were darker than their surroundings… Empty, dark spaces where the light couldn't reach…

He wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

He let out a long, shuddering sigh as he stared up at the darkness above him, and wondered what was wrong with him. He felt horrible.

It was like he was slowly being un-seamed, as if someone had found the tiny thread that kept him together and was slowly pulling it out.

He felt like he was losing definition, as if he were becoming a blurry, abstract shape. At times, he thought that if he let himself stay still long enough the tiny parts of him would just dissolve into his surroundings. When he lifted his hand, and looked at it in the fading, flickering light, he thought he could see his flesh unraveling—as if all the tiny parts and pieces that made him up were slowly releasing from his physical whole and becoming one with the darkness above and around him.

He reached up and rubbed his eyes, if only for the reassurance that he still had fingers. He let his fingers rest over his eyes, shielding them from seeing the world around him.

But there was more to it wasn't there? There were the moments when he felt outside himself, like his consciousness was slowly disconnecting from his physical form and drifting further and further away.

And his feet felt numb. It wasn't the usual pins and needles, but a creeping cold sensation that was slowly spreading up his body. It felt like he was slowly sinking into ice cold water.

He was afraid, terrified, but he didn't have the strength to panic. His head felt heavy, his heart felt empty, and he didn't have the energy to care that all the feelings and emotions that had once filled him up were fading away…

He thought, for a moment, that he ought to stand up and try to move around… perhaps find a way out. But even as he shifted, he felt the will to rise leave him. He slumped back into the chair and let his mind continue to wander the same dark, miserable paths that he'd been retracing obsessively for the past day or so…

 _Amon was his brother._

 _The Avatar had fallen._

 _Republic City would fall._

 _He'd lost everything._

 _Why did he bother to persist…?_

He knew he needed to think of something else. Anything else. So, he wondered why he hadn't been able to bear telling Amon's lieutenant the truth. He'd more than thought about it, he'd come close to saying it a few times. He'd told Korra. He'd told her everything without a thought and without regret. So why not the lieutenant? What was the difference?

He ran his hand down his face and opened his eyes to stare vacantly around the dark room with its flickering lanterns. He could come to only one conclusion…

When he'd told Korra, he'd been in shock. He'd been dwelling on the knowledge for hours and sharing his conclusions with her had provided him a bit of much-needed relief. But now his feelings had changed.

 _He was ashamed._

When he thought about Amon being his brother, he wanted to die. He'd done everything he could to become the rightful ruler of Republic City. He'd compromised his morals, his ethics; he'd compromised everything he'd held dear just to win. And he'd lost…

 _To his perfect brother._

If he'd known Amon was his brother, he wouldn't have bothered. He'd have known that he didn't stand a chance. So everything he'd done, every sacrifice, every time he'd compromised a little more of himself… just to get one step further… it had all been pointless. He'd played the part of a man who didn't even know he'd already been defeated…

 _He was such a fool._

 _Such a complete and utter fool._

Tarrlok's hand rested heavily on his knee. His mouth opened and he drew a deep and shuddering breath.

 _…it was pointless._

Amon had won. Unalaq was going to kill them all. The Avatar was broken.

It was all over.

Tarrlok's gaze was drawn to the pens and objects scattered on the table… Things that had been left behind by the negligent, love-sick lieutenant. If he applied enough force…

Tarrlok ripped his eyes from the scattered objects.

 _No._

He… he wouldn't give his brother the satisfaction. As long as he lived, he could torture Amon. He wasn't done yet.

A dark smile slowly twisted across his face. His conversation with Amon had exposed his brother's own shame. On some level, perfect Noatak still dreaded becoming Yakone… Tarrlok had seen the fear in his brother's eyes, in the shaking of his hands. If Tarrlok was ashamed of his relation to the equalist leader… if he had to be reminded of it every second that he lived…

 _… then why should Noatak live without the same misery?_

Tarrlok grit his teeth and swore to himself that he would never let Noatak live it down. He would be there to remind his brother again and again that he was everything that Yakone had ever wanted. He would live to bring his brother suffering, to drag him down into this numbing misery and destroy him.

He chuckled softly at the dark direction of his thoughts. His eyes slipped closed and he let his chin dip forward as he gently shook his head at himself.

 _He was so damn petty, wasn't he?_

He'd commit what acts of petty violence he could to corrode his brother's strength.

He would do whatever it took…

Behind his hooded eyes, he felt the darkness swallow him up. His mind drifted and he felt outside himself…

… and then a gentle weight came to rest upon his shoulder.

He opened his eyes and straightened. Or he thought he did. The lights had gone out and he could not see anything, so he wasn't sure if he was awake or asleep.

But a voice spoke out in the darkness, "I'm sorry for everything I put you through."

He knew that voice…

 _… Noatak…_

Tarrlok's brow furrowed in annoyance. He reached up, expecting to find his brother's warm, firm hand.

He found nothing.

He jerked his hand away and stood up quickly. He looked around in the darkness for a sign of another presence, but there was no one there. He was completely alone in the dark.

He reached up to touch his shoulder.

The cloth under his fingers was warm, as if a living hand had rested there for a time.

[] [] [] END CHAPTER 6 [] [] []

 **A/N for Part 2: Flight-** It's looking a lot bigger than I anticipated. When I first started writing it, I was really focused on the Amon/Korra/Tarrlok group dynamic/character arcs and less focused on the Republic City plot-threads. However, in order to really set up for the central conflicts in later parts and really give readers a grasp of the extent of how things are going to change when I get around to the stuff that actually happened in the series (like Harmonic Convergence and the Red Lotus) I need to include a few Republic City Arcs.

Is it necessary?

For what I'm trying to do with Korra, Asami, Amon, and Tarrlok's characters it is absolutely necessary.

So there's going to be a war... and that means I have to add in several scenes and rework my planning timelines a bit... which is a bit difficult, because everything's already very tight.

 **Some comments on Chapter 6-** There is an extra, unplanned scene in Chapter 6. I was having a huge amount of trouble writing that scene between Zhen and Tarrlok. I mean, I've hated scenes before, but I have not hated any as much as I hated this one. It went through no less than 8 rewrites and it's the reason that this update is coming so late. So, I drew up a small character moment for an equalist who will be playing a role in the Republic City Arcs to sooth my bitter writer soul. On one hand, I've got so much on my plate with this monster adding more always seems like a bad idea, but at the same time I do love character work.

I swear I wouldn't make Equalist OCs if Bryke had given me more Equalist characters to work with... but here we are. And I do need Equalists. So you've got two OCs in this chapter-Aklaq and Yun.

On a final note, updates are going to be slow for a while. I've got a lot on my plate right now and some of the scenes do need some heavy rewrites. I'll keep things coming as fast as I can.


End file.
